JLA: Behold a Pale Horse
by Two-Eyed Charlie
Summary: COMPLETE-to an extent. Details inside, along with a free prize (last part's a lie)
1. Prologue

**Keep scrolling for the actual story; this here is just...administrative stuff. And the roll call for the Justice League of America, of course, nothing too major.**

 **Oh, hello! I didn't see you there! (That's a lie, I see everything. I work for the NSA after all).**

 **For starters, let me say thank you to everyone who migrated over from Reign of Terror. As I said, I apologize that ROT is going to take a back seat to this story, and I appreciate all the support you gave me! Hopefully you enjoy this story too, as it's the thing I've been** _ **wanting**_ **to write for about 3 solid months now…**

 **I'll try to keep the author's note brief, but just since I think this needs a little context with past events, I figured I'd do that before the story actually starts.**

 **So….., this story takes place after** _ **JLA #75,**_ **also known as the last part of the** _ **Obsidian Age**_ **arc. A lot of the past events will be referenced (hopefully in as natural a way as possible) to fill in some of the gaps, but again I figure it's best to explain the setting here than to try to crowbar it in somewhere else.**

 **Now, what happened in** _ **JLA #75**_ **? The Justice League returned from the dead and managed to retake Atlantis from some bad guys, Aquaman's in some serious trouble with his people, and Batman and Wonder Woman have yet to have a little talk about something special that happened out on the battlefield.**

 **Oh and President Luthor tried to nuke the island to stop the bad guys while the replacement JLA was still there. You know, because he's kind of a dick.**

 **What HASN'T happened yet is the following: JLA #90, Identity Crisis, Infinite Crisis, The Crisis of the Crisises, The Passion of the Crisis, Crisis Part II: The Electric Boogaloo, Final Crisis, Final Crisis in Trade Paper Back form (so you can actually understand it), and, of course, Flashpoint hasn't happened yet.**

 **And that's about it. The rest of the plot (so the entire story), is all an original idea my myself and the voices in my head. Not a whole lot of impact on the story at large other than setting up the beginning of the prologue and, of course, the team composition. Which, by the way, includes…**

 **-Batman (the comically serious)**

 **-Superman (the comically Jesus-like)**

 **-Wonder Woman (the neutral good who also doesn't pull out a sword whenever she wants because she's a nuanced character and not a raging psychopath with a bikini *grumble grumble New 52 grumble grumble*)**

 **-Martian Manhunter (the comically serious alien with an Oreo addiction)**

 **-Flash III [Wally West] (the guy who can run around the world eighteen times and stop at every drive through on the planet)**

 **-Green Lantern IV [Kyle Rayner] (the comic book artist with a heart [and a galactic WMD on his middle finger])**

 **-Plastic Man (Jim Carrey meets an exploded NOVA Chemicals plant)**

 **So…..yeah, there we go. That is the cast of the JLA. Of course there are plenty more characters in this story, I just wanted to make sure everyone knew who was on the team so people could do their homework if they needed.**

 **Without further ado, the legal stuff:**

 **DC Comics owns all characters as well as my attention. While I pretend to own my personal thoughts, I'm not convinced I'm just some fragment of a higher being forced to walk this mortal plane…broke as all hell…..**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

" _I am Alpha and Omega: the Beginning and the End….."_

 _ **United States Presidential Election Debate: Senator James Franklin Kirkpatrick (D-MA) vs Incumbent J. Allen Carter**_

 _ **Three days before the Presidential Election...**_

His head continued to pound in his skull. His fists shook beneath the podium. His teeth ground together at every passing word from his opponent. He was nothing but a ball of barely contain rage at this point, and no less than one hundred and fifty _million_ Americans had a front row seat to his slow and excruciating downfall.

He'd have called it a public execution if he wasn't already lamenting about his _blink-and-you'll-miss-it_ tenure as the Leader of the Free World.

Not like he wasn't warned about an impending investigation and recall, though…

He was fully aware that his inability to control his emotions only kicked him further down the hole he found himself in. He _knew_ that the very act of having his candidacy challenged after Luthor was indicted was the first deathblow to his campaign. Every advisor, every _friend_ he still had, warned him that standing in front of the nation and trying to rationalize the administration's actions was nothing short of committing political suicide.

Especially if the public was firmly on the side of the JLA…

But every plan he _thought_ he had, no matter how sly, no matter how _brilliant_ , seemed to crumble around him as that damned Senator from Massachusetts pounded away at his defenses.

He was retreating almost before the moderator asked the first question. That was fifteen minutes ago. By now, he almost felt as though the debate would be submitted as evidence at the World Court the way things were going…

"I'm not…no let me finish Mr. Vice President…"

"It's Mr. _President_ son _._ " He spat, "As in _Commander-in-Chief_. So far as I know the Line of Succession…"

"Doesn't apply during an emergency election. _Especially_ when the previous administration is being charged with a wide assortment of _war crimes_ …"

The flash of an army's worth of camera's bathed the two podiums in flickering light, a thunderous applause emanating from the audience. He ran an exasperated hand through his greying hair as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Carter scowled at his increasingly audacious opponent, silently cursing every analyst and campaign manager he had hired from that overpriced firm in Metropolis for being so damn off the mark…

He swore at himself too, for ever thinking that the public wouldn't immediately get behind the young Senator from Massachusetts. His comments about him being nothing more than a baby-faced, bleeding heart wimp seemed to be accurate at first glance, but Kirkpatrick had an entire _library's_ worth of transcripts and documents painting a damning picture of Luthor's administration. _His_ administration. All he had to do was smile innocently at the camera and read off the latest INTERPOL report and the endearing public would fawn at his feet.

They needed a scapegoat.

He should have listened to Waller's warnings…

The young man on the left of the stage soaked up the clamour and attention around him with a toothy grin as he continued, his piercing blue eyes stealing glances at the bustling audience hidden away in the shadows after every successfully hit.

"I know you don't like me to use that term, Mr. Vice President, but there's no two ways about it. What Luthor's administration did…"

"Was completely _necessary_." The older gentleman seethed, desperately trying to stave off the Senator's offensive.

The smirk was replaced with a look of offense and shock. If the Senator hadn't been a professional politician, Carter would have thought he legitimately offended the man…

"Dropping a WMD on a foreign nation, let alone American _citizens_ , is hardly necessary. _Especially_ if those citizens were the JLA, and _especially_ when it's deployed without the permission of either House of Congress or the UN…"

Carter's scowl tightened on his lips as another round of applause echoed in his ears, the already severe migraine threatening to rip open his skull. His fiery glare merely rolled off Senator Kirkpatrick's eased demeanor. Still unfazed. Still regal.

Still _infuriating_.

Carter's glower instead fell onto the silent and clearly befuddled moderator as he began to respond, the emotion in his voice rising with every word.

"It's fully within the prevue of the President's powers to utilize _any_ weapon they see fit so long as it serves a _national interest_. And considering how we were in the process of succumbing to world-wide dehydration…"

"According toS. 1011 Mr. Vice President," Kirkpatrick interrupted innocently, "you'd known that _Muon Bombs_ , because of their catastrophic potential, are _not_ something the White House has unlimited jurisdiction over. He fired on Atlantis with a UN weapon. He fired on Atlantis when _Americans_ were in the city."

"He tried to save the _planet_!" Carter spat, quickly grimacing as his strategy yet again crumbled around his bubbling emotions.

"But all he did was endanger the JLA! Possibly even _hamper_ them! We've yet to see a single instance where conventional weapons work against cosmic threats and he _still_ nearly wiped out an entire league of superheroes. Mr. Vice President I understand that, as a member of the National Security Council, you want to avoid blame for what happened, but…"

"Don't you _dare_ try to implicate me in anything, Senator! This is _not_ a trial!"

"I'm aware Mr. Vice President, and I apologize if it seemed that way." Kirkpatrick's hands rose apologetically. "I know that any war crimes Luthor and the lot are being charged with don't include you, but…"

"I take offense to you and every other pseudo-lawyer out there calling those people _criminals_!" Carter interrupted forcefully. His irate eyes fell upon the plump form of the moderator again as he pleaded. "This _debate_ is turning into nothing more than a kangaroo court; I _implore_ you to…"

"Luthor, Waller, Lane and everyone else in the upper echelon of the White House immediately fled and went underground after INTERPOL first started investigating. Knowing Luthor's past, knowing _Waller's_ past, especially with meta-humans, it's not exactly an encouraging act. After all, they could be out there _right now_ , with all their contacts, planning _something_. I don't mean to make this a trial but I _do_ want justice for the American people! This government _must_ be accountable!"

Carter almost couldn't hear the roaring of the crowd through his laboured breath and pounding head. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the podium, pure anger coursing through his veins.

Everyone in the theatre was taken aback when he bellowed out in anger. No one more so than the Democrat who found himself at the end of a shaking, accusatory finger.

"And who the _hell_ are you to talk about Justice? Hmm? You and the sanctimonious _cloud_ that you float on, high above all the world's problems and fears and the _goddamn reality_ the rest of us have to live in! Have you ever had to roll around in the muck of the world with nothing more than an a half empty magazine and your dead friend lying on top of you? Or do you just wait until _Superman_ blocks the bullet heading your way? Have you ever had to pull the trigger to save the life of another? Or do you just pray that _Wonder Woman_ will do it for you? The _JLA….._ " he spat, slamming his fist into the top of the podium.

"We made a decision, a _tactical_ decision, that no matter how ineffective it may have been in the long run, at the time was meant to _save lives_. Save lives without some _Deus Ex Machina_ gliding down from the heavens with a harp in one hand and a magical wand in the other. We made a _decision_ to try to save the world! And you presume to judge us?"

A suffocating silence fell upon everyone in the building, all eyes trained on the fuming politician. Carter lowered his voice, but no attempt was made to filter out the pure vitriol that formed every word.

"Tell me then what you think _Justice_ means? Enlighten me, Senator. Because from here, all I can see is a damn coward who's more than content to just let a pantheon of gods solve all of man's problems."

All attention was solely on Senator Kirkpatrick now. The flashes of cameras flickered. Spectators murmured. Eyes bore into the young politician intently. Carter could feel his chest continue to heave as he worked off the last of his agitation, feeling a sense of calm wash over him as the last of his outburst trailed off…

Only to have it rapidly rise again as his opponent smiled, straightened his tie, and answered in a calm, professional manner.

He hadn't fazed him at all…

"You're wrong on more than a few counts, Mr. Vice President. But you're very right on where I stand with your… _performance._ See I hold us to a far higher standard than most; we're the representatives of our people, after all. And if these so called _gods_ as you describe them have taught me anything, it's that the bar can _always_ be raised. And in a country such as ours, anything less is a death sentence to our very way of life. It's not the Cold War anymore. The situation we find ourselves in is far, _far_ more philosophically important that being capitalist or communist, free or oppressed. No…we're in an era where the dominant question to be answered is 'what does it mean to be _human?_ ' and more importantly, 'how do we, as a species so young and naïve, respond to the world around them?'"

He released his tie, folding his hands calmly in front of him. He leaned over the podium with confidence, staring directly into the eyes of the crowd and the rows of camera's tracking his every move.

"I don't propose to rely on the JLA for everything, not even close to that. But for our government to be effective, we must be adaptable. We have to see an ally, a _resource_ if you will, for what is it; an _opportunity_. We need to increase ties with the JLA and any other league of superheroes in order to make sure that we can best utilize them for the betterment of humanity as a whole, the common good. We have the means, the connections, and the people to make this a reality, and the fact that we've until this time kept them at arm's length…well I think that's just plain criminal. I don't mean replacing the fire department with them of course, that's not an effective utilization of someone who can fly or stop asteroids. But I _do_ understand that we live in the world first described by Nietzsche all those years ago, and with that comes a threat that frankly, a muon bomb just won't fix…"

Carter grimaced as a cacophony of cheers rattled around his brain. He grimaced further when the realization of what was happening finally donned on him.

He had tried to back the Senator into a corner with pure passion, and now the bastard was turning it into his very own stump speech.

The arrogant, incensing, doe eyed, bloody _bastard_ …

"…Now my opponent has asked what I think Justice means. I'll answer that question. I think it means a lot of things, but one of the most important, and most forgotten aspects, is paying attention to the little guy. Remembering that he's there. See…we have the fortune of having the Justice League up there and looking out for the big threats that you and I, we don't have a hope of defeating. So, for me, Justice means doing whatever I can to make sure the common man on the ground is safe and satisfied so that Superman and the rest don't have to take time away from stopping whatever monster is kicking around in our neck of the universe. Make you, every man, women and child at home, feel safe. Now I don't mean by increasing surveillance or making it legal for the police to kick down your door at four in the morning. But mark my words, if you elect me…..I won't forget about you. Any of you…"

Carter couldn't bear to look at him any longer, not with the thunderous headache still eating away at his self-resolve. He nearly slammed his head into the podium as Kirkpatrick waved to the now completely swayed public, eating out of their support out of their hands like a starved animal.

He had lost. _Spectacularly._ And now there was nothing keeping him safe. No powerful barrier to keep the demons from finally catching up to him.

He had lost…

He should have listened to Waller's warnings…

…

…

…

 _ **Three Days Later….**_

 _Questions Journal, Entry Number 15-21-1219_

 _Rain pelts the sidewalk. Can see people running for cover. Hands cover heads, people converge under umbrellas, dart through alley's and shops and everywhere in between. Trying to get out of the storm._

 _Fruitless. Pointless. Stupid._

 _None of us are safe. Conspiracy and darkness and death seep through every crack in the pavement, bubble through every drain, stare back at us in every reflection. Death. Can't escape it. Won't let us. But people are blind. They see the writing on the wall and they scream to the heavens for help. But it's the heavens that betray us. That torment us. There's no one to answer our calls, but they scream and pray and scream again anyways. Hope for answer. Receive only silence._

 _Never pay attention to the body on the sidewalk in front of them._

 _Blind. Deluded. Stupid._

 _Found two more bodies today. One was a detective. Jim Corrigan. Gruff looking, overweight but not enough to slow him down. Looked like he'd been through hell. They didn't do it though. Didn't kill him. Just some random punk with a gun._

 _Waste of life. Waste of flesh. Just a waste. No purpose, no reason. Family probably doesn't want to hear that, but they should know. Truth is truth. Black is black, white is white, pointless death is a pointless death._

 _Denial is delusion, and delusion is a disease. Sooner the world sees that, the sooner they'll stop laughing at the likes of me. Stop laughing of their own free will and wake up to the world that snarls at them._

 _Alternative is they stop laughing when the gun at their head finally fires._

 _Second body more perplexing. Standing over it now, blood nearly filling shoes as it pours from the cold corpse. No ID, no cards, custom made clothing._

 _Faceless._

 _Means he's important. Means that someone figured he needed to be underground. What for though? Protection? Judging from scene, looks that way._

 _Wound on neck. Sliced open by knife. Sharp knife. Most of blood loss comes from that one wound. Not the first injury though. Smoldering stump where hand used to be. Advanced weapon, very high tech. Very expensive. Meant to be a killing blow. Didn't do the job, needed to get up close. Finish him off. Just a wounded animal to them, walking slabs of meat ripe for harvest and cultivation._

 _Body contorted, trying to drag itself away. In shock most likely, unable to accept that it's approaching the end. Or…shocked at who pulled the trigger? Could he have been faceless to protect himself against them? Do they know?_

 _Unlikely. No one knows. Only me. Only I put the pieces together. This man was probably as stupefied as the rest._

 _Now…just as dead as the rest._

 _Afraid. Desperate. Stupid._

 _Will get to the bottom of this. Only one who can. Everyone else too stupid, too blind. Those who aren't…too busy. Equally blind. My fight. Will find out what they want. Stop the killings. End the conspiracy._

 _If people don't want to accept that the thing staring back at them isn't their own reflection, or that the muck and gunk rising from the sewers isn't the puss of the human spirit dying, or that darkness closing in around them from every decrepit crevice isn't clawing for their last breath, then I will._

 _I'll be the guardian, for when the gods fail._

…

…

…

The Question rose from the battered body as a small sound echoed through the abandoned halls. Beneath his mask, Vic Sage's brow furrowed. It was probable that it was just the wind, or some misplaced cup tumbling off a precarious perch. But Question knew better than to assume something so benign. He was at a crime scene. A brutal, vicious, crime scene.

That narrowed down the reasonable options significantly.

He timidly stepped over the body and made his way into the darkened hallway, taking great care to soften his footfalls. He peered around the corner, straining his neck out of cover to get a better look. He was met with darkness, the only illumination in this wing of the building coming from the stray beams of moonlight streaking through a large window.

The coast seemed clear…for now…

Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, he crept towards where he thought he heard the noise. He leaned against the wall, sliding slowly down its lengthy shadows. He met only pure silence as he crept, even the particles of dust in the air seemingly remained suspended. Undisturbed.

Then…another crash. A faint one, barely registering over the sounds of a mouse scampering across the floor. But loud enough that the Question could hear it.

It emanated from behind a closed office door just up ahead of him, followed by the sound of scratching. Without thinking, Question quickened his pace, shuffling forward to the door. Deftly grasping the handle, he creaked open the door, glancing in cautiously.

Darkness. Only an open window, facing a non-descript, brick wall, and the shaded outline of a desk.

An empty room.

That is, until Question opened the door slightly wider, allowing a stray beam of moonlight to pour over a large, black box nestled against the side of the desk. Vic pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered the room, cautiously closing the distance between himself and the box. As he neared it, and his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, he noticed the advanced lock adorning its side.

 _A very_ advanced lock, containing security measures that he had only read about in science fiction fanzines. Someone would need a lot of money to afford something like that, a lot of resources…

Conceivably, they could afford an advanced weapon or two as well…

As his mind slowly connected the dots, he became aware of a presence behind him. A small clicking noise confirmed his senses, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the box and glance behind him. He saw a shadowy silhouette standing in the doorway, a sleek and glistening gun pointed at his head.

A very _advanced_ looking gun.

He tried to leap out of the way of the projectile that was sure to come. Summersaulting through the air, he landed at the opposite end of the room, directly facing a wall. But the figure holding the gun was patient, _too_ patient. The gun tracked his every move, followed him perfectly towards the wall. Now he was stuck, walled off in a corner.

He had failed.

He only saw the flash as every memory he ever held dear blink in and out of existence in his mind. A searing pain burned away at his mask.

Then, without warning, his world went black…

* * *

 **Damn conspiracy theorists...whenever they're right they always have to get killed. Way to be sucky at your job.**

 **Anyways, that was the prologue, hope you liked it! It's a murder mystery, how couldn't you like it right? Right?**

 **Right.**

 **Feel free to let me know in the comment section, and as always, stay away from Objectivists with no faces.**

 **Actually, just stay away from Objectivists period.**

 **Also I'm fully aware that this is now the second story that I've started with a popular character getting murdered, however I don't yet feel like I need to visit a doctor. Of course if enough people disagree, maybe (just maybe) I'll check my self in and see if I don't have a debilitating bout of "I'm a deranged psychopath".**

 **In fairness, psychopath's tend to write more interesting stories than you "normal" people, so...**

 **Also, to all the American readers out there, as a respectful Canadian...thank you for sending us anthrax. That was very sweet of you. Granted a know I've made an anthrax joke or two here and there but still...**


	2. Chapter 1: To Kill a Question

**Aaaaaaaannnnndddd we're back! Thank you all kindly for the reviews and follows and the like. I'm thrilled to hear that you enjoyed the prologue (and didn't automatically try to find where I live and beat me up for killing the Question. It was painful for me too guys, don't you ever doubt that for a second).**

 **Oh speaking of, bonus internet points for all the people who noticed the Rorschach esq dialogue for his journal (he was, after all, merely an expy for Ditko's Question and his crazy...well craziness). The points aren't really redeemable for anything though sadly...kind of like the Canadian dollar right now (I can say that because I'm Canadian).**

 **Anyways, here is the first official chapter, complete with things and characters and a whole lot of plot. DC may own all the characters that you can search up on the internet, but I own all my original ones. Which means I can do whatever I want with them.**

 **Even if it's dark...dark things...**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 _ **"To Kill a Question"**_

"… _and heard behind me a great voice…"_

 _ **Gotham City:**_

The rotary blades of a UH-60 Black Hawk cut through the damp evening air as the craft weaved through the gothic structures of East-End Gotham. The raging storm that had blanketed the city was finally dissipating, leaving only streaks of black clouds scattered across the night sky.

The _red_ sky _._ A menacing red at that…

Neither pilot could take their eyes off the steaks of crimson as they hovered over the streets, their spotlight darting in between every alley and run down building it came across. Such a low flyby of a condensed area would be hazardous under the best of conditions, but the Gotham skyline seemed to rebel at their very presence. Each dark and grimy tower seemed to reach out towards the chopper as she navigated the labyrinthine streets in an effort to slap it away. The pilot's senses were bombarded with dread at every gargoyle they passed, like Gotham itself was displaying its festering crime and corruption as a warning to them.

 _Stay out. You can't win. You're not strong enough._

It made a sick sort of sense, both pilots thought in unison. The resident lunatic in pyjamas hated anyone with the slightest bit of authority or power parading around in his city. It was only fair that the city itself was just as unwelcoming.

It could stand to be a bit less _creepy_ about it though…

The older co-pilot, a well-built man with a thick, bristled mustache, looked at his partner as though he was privy to the thoughts they both shared. With the reputation this place had on outsiders, he understood now why the FBI was more than content to stay out of its affairs.

Under normal circumstances at least, and this evening was turning out to be far from normal…

Static from the onboard radio jolted both pilots from their outward gaze. The co-pilot released control of the craft to his partner before picking up the receiver.

"Chopper 2 here. Still no sign of the suspect, over."

"Break off pursuit Chopper 2, repeat break off pursuit. Return to the chemical complex and prepare for pick-up. We've got a lot of suspects, over."

Both pilots creased their brows in surprise. Still perplexed, the co-pilot though managed to reply in a neutral tone. "Uh, roger that Team Lead. Don't think we have enough body bags on board though, over."

"Not necessary. They're alive…..every single one of them, over."

This time the FBI pilot stuttered audibly, the city's reputation again flashing through his mind. "Repeat Team Lead, you say they're alive, over?"

"Affirmative, all twenty nine of them." The voice on the radio sounded highly impressed. "Each one's badly bruised and more than willing to talk."

The two pilots exchanged glances at one another, fully unable to respond.

"Oh, and the Commissioner says not to worry about that last perp." The Team Leader interrupted their stupor. "He's says it's being handled, over."

Still shocked, the pilots pulled back on the controls, the sleek helicopter lurching as it diverted its course back into the heart of the city. Unbeknownst to them, a hidden camera on the underside of the chopper trained over the shaded streets. It paused, a discrete clicking noise emanating from its internal gears, as it captured several frames of a rapidly moving shape darting in between shadows. A final picture captured the figure leaping into the light, its silhouette blanketing a near-by wall.

The silhouette of a bat…

…

 _Batman_

…

I've been tracking him since he bolted from the chemical plant, keeping to the shadows as he scurries around like a scared animal. Went straight for the crew's escape vehicle while I was busy tying up the last of the perps still in the building. They can't be too happy about that. I might have to recommend that this guy save himself a visit to the prison doctor and avoid meeting up with them in Blackgate.

After I _extract_ the information I need, of course. Depending on how _responsive_ he wants to be, he might end up there anyways. No skin off my back.

He abandoned the clunky van several blocks ago in the middle of an intersection, luckily without hurting a single late-night commuter. Probably though traffic was too congested, figured he'd be faster on foot.

I'm definitely not dealing with a Nobel Prize winner then. The streets of Gotham are a malevolent maze to people who don't live here, and the accent this guy was using puts him somewhere in the New England region, probably grew up in Boston. He's out of his element; terrified, lost, desperately clinging to the shadows like a frightened child might cling to their favorite blanket…

Unfortunately for him, I _live_ in the shadows.

I'm perched just overhead of him, on the edge of an old sandstone building. He's ditched the assault rifle he was slinging around, focusing on gaining as much ground as possible. He must know I'm coming after him…

Maybe he's not as stupid as I thought. Just maybe…

I track him as I leap from rooftop to rooftop, following his frantic pace with every predatory instinct I have. He's sprinting down a long alleyway now, nothing but an empty stretch of forgotten road running along a series of abandoned houses. I can see his face, frozen with terror, eyes darting nervously and rapidly, sweat pouring off his brow. He's looking for an exit, trying to find a way out of the hell hole he dropped himself into. He's finally realized his folly and wised up to the fact that he's in _my_ domain. That every shadow around him could at any second leap out and claim him without so much as a soul to scream to.

I find it increasingly hard not to smile at that. It's been a long night; fatigue's eating away at my emotional blocks. Besides, I don't take kindly to people making a mess of _my_ town. Especially when they end up dragging the FBI in; for all the good they may _try_ to do in the rest of the country, here they're just a hindrance. To Gordon, to Mayor Grange, and more importantly, to _me_. So I'm not too broken up about the fact that he's suffering from a debilitating case of claustrophobia right now…

But, I hate torture. Even when it involves criminals. So as he finally reaches the dead-end that he's been running towards for almost three blocks, I decide to spare him from the walking nightmare he's in, and end the chase.

I silently leap from my perch and land right behind him. He's swearing and stuttering in fear while backing up unconsciously, his attention solely on the wall in front of him.

I let him back into me.

I can feel his body tense as he hits my chest, shock running up the length of his spine. With hair standing up on the back of his neck, he whips around, his hand reaching for the weapon I know he doesn't have. I clamp my hand over his mouth before he can scream and slam his head back into the wall. Just enough to blur his vision. I can see myself in his eyes, silently screaming for help as he struggles against what surely looks like a _demon_ to him.

It's getting easier to stomach my appearance, whenever I see it in a broken window or a glossy eye. I'm not sure I'm ok with that…not anymore…

Figuring that he's retained enough of his senses, I tighten my grip on his jaw. Leaning closer towards him, my face cloaked in shadows, I lower my voice…and _growl_ …

" **Why did you attack Haleon Chemicals?"**

I loosen my grip and wait for his reply. But he just stutters in response, eyes glazing over quickly. He's too scared to respond. And I'm too impatient to wait until he's calmed down. Squeezing harder on his nerves, I growl out my demands again.

" **Talk! Before I hang you from a building by your tongue!"**

His eyes shoot back to me attentively. Good, I got through to him. I slacken my grip as he spits out a garbled reply.

"I don't know, I don't know! I'm a low-level grunt, I…I just do the ground work! All I'm following orders, honest!"

" **Who's orders?"**

"I…someone big. Only uses code-names. Mr. Four, or somethin' I think. I don't know who he really is! Please, you gotta believe me!"

Code names and a bunch of out-of-town hired guns for a robbery? I don't like it. The operation would cost too much; you'd be better off risking some cheap Gotham labour. You don't use expensive proxies for something like this unless the motive is beyond simple cash. I should try to get more information out of this guy, bleed him for all that he's worth. But I won't. Anything else would be unnecessary and fruitless, just bruises for the sake of bruises. And I don't want to operate like that.

Not when I have company.

The small gust of wind descending into the darkened part of the alley gave her away long before the slight scuffle of boots. But she's doing an admirable job trying to remain hidden. For someone with zero training in stealth that is. It'd be rude to keep her waiting, so I shift my attention away from the perp shaking in my hand and move to address her, tell her that she can come out and talk.

But this sweating ball of grease doesn't get to watch…

…

…

…

"I wonder what he did to get that brutal response…" Wonder Woman teasingly mused as Batman pinched the criminal's neck. "Kick a puppy? Insult your car? Try to teach you about love?"

The criminal's eyes rolled back into his head as his sweat-soaked form crumpled unceremoniously to the ground. Batman stepped over his prone form as he closed the distance between himself and the Amazon, his face neutral but not unwelcoming. She braced herself for a verbal assault, being that she had interrupted his interrogation.

Batman however didn't seem too bothered as he tossed a locator beacon at the unconscious man's feet. "I don't have the luxury of flying people into the stratosphere and then threatening to drop them, Princess. Brutal or not, it works."

Seeing that he was in an amicable mood, for him at least, she shifted her stance into a teasing pose. "Of course, it's completely different when you only do it off a _mere_ skyscraper right?"

"Never a skyscraper," Batman corrected, "they know I won't drop them from that height. Takes the _punch_ out of the interrogation."

"Oh how lucky the meek and innocent are to have you on their side…" she drawled with a growing smirk. Batman could help himself as his lips slightly curled as well.

"I have to balance out the woman running around in the American-Flag bikini, don't I?"

Before she could respond, he reached into his utility belt and pulled out his grapple gun. Firing a line into the air, he accelerated into the sky, leaving a chuckling Wonder Woman to float after him.

"One of these days, I'm going to have to wear pants on the job…" she lamented, "just so that he has to come up with new material…"

She caught up to his gliding form as he soured over an abandoned row of houses, his cape taunt in the wind currents. She pulled up closer to him, her voice raised slightly over the howling winds.

"Do you remember the 'good old days' when you'd growl at me to get out of your city?"

"I remember when you'd tell me to go fall on a pike as a response."

"I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of _'if it'll get you the hell out of Gotham_ …'"

Batman fought to supress a smile as he landed on the roof of a low rise building. He turned to Wonder Woman as she gracefully landed next to him. "I'm glad that one of your fondest memories of me involves a modern re-enactment of Târgovişte…"

"And here I thought you _got off_ on torture…"

Neither of them could supress a small chuckle as they stared at each other, the cool evening breeze rustling both cape and hair. The silence dragged on though as the smiles faded, replaced with a heavy feeling of awkwardness. Batman self-consciously rubbed the armoured nape of his neck as he broke the stillness.

"I'm guessing you're here to…"

"Talk. Yes…" she interrupted, rubbing her arms together as if she was cold. She could see the icy persona of the Batman start to melt away as he spoke.

"You could have called."

"I was afraid you'd try to put it off."

"You, afraid?" he tried to tease, noticing how they both sifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Receiving no response, he continued, his voice lower and softer than before. "I wouldn't put this off…it's not fair to you."

"Or yourself." She responded. "I know how much it eats away at you, to not have all the answers…"

Bruce paused as his gaze dropped to the ground. He briefly thought about kicking at a pebble settled next to his foot, but decided against it after he realized how childish it would look. Sighing, his eyes rose back to Diana as his hands disappeared underneath his inky cloak.

"Sometimes I wonder if not every question _should_ have an answer…"

"You don't think we should try?" She didn't look offended, he realized. If anything, she seemed…understanding.

"No! No, that's…that's not what I meant at all." He corrected quickly. "I just…I'm not exactly sure where we should even start."

"It didn't exactly happen under _normal_ circumstances, did it?" she agreed.

"No, it didn't. Generally you don't talk about a _dying kiss_ …"

"But we're not exactly normal people, are we?"

"Not in the slightest. But you know me; I need to be sure before I do anything, even if it's just talking. And _especially_ if it involves you; you're practically invincible, but that doesn't mean I don't worry about hurting you…"

Diana smiled as she felt a small amount of warmth return to the rooftop. "That's sweet of you. In a paranoid sort of way."

"Paranoid is the only way I operate Princess." He returned her smile as the breeze pushed his cape back up to his shoulders, forcing him to quickly retract his nervously twiddling thumbs further back into its dark material. Ignoring the chuckle coming from the opposite side of the roof, he quickly glanced at the illuminated hands of the old clock tower next to them. "It's around 3:00…I can finish up patrol early if you want to…"

He was interrupted by a shrill beeping emanating from his cowl, the unmistakable chime of his built in JLA communicator ringing through his ears. A split second later, a voice replaced the ringing.

"Superman to Batman, come in."

With an annoyed growl, he held up his hand at Diana and reached for the device in his ear. Wonder Woman slowly moved closer as he answered.

"Batman here. What's the problem?"

"Are you at the crime scene already?"

"What crime scene?" he asked incredulously, his brow furrowed under his mask. Diana folded her arms across her chest as she stared at Batman's bemused reaction.

"You didn't hear?"

"Clearly not, Kent. Or I wouldn't have asked."

"Right, sorry. Providence police found the Question's body about half an hour ago…he was _murdered_."

Batman paused as he mulled the news over, his face not once shifting from the neutral glare he was sporting. Superman quickly continued as the silence persisted.

"Kyle's already down there trying to contain the scene for you, but you need to hurry. The Federal government is chomping at the bit to move in."

"Understood. I'll take Diana with me; she can placate the suits while I investigate. Batman out."

Before Diana could say anything, the visage of the Bat fully regained control of Bruce's body, his face now deathly serious. He typed a quick command into his gauntlet as he spoke, the faint sound of engines growing louder and louder in the distance.

"I'll explain on the way, but we need to move. _Quickly_." He rummaged in his utility belt and pulled out his grapple gun, aiming for the passing batwing as it soured overhead. Before he fired, he stared sympathetically at Diana, her arms still folded across her chest. "Sorry. We'll…we'll make time eventually."

She could only chuckle as he was hoisted into the air, his cape billowing out behind him. Sighing and shaking her head, she took to the skies after him, opening up a comm channel with the batwing.

"C'est la vie." she murmured to herself. "C'est la vie…"

…

…

…

 _ **Providence, Rhode Island:**_

"You can't hold up an investigation just because your _friend_ with the pointy ears wants to snoop around first!" shouted a pudgy FBI agent, his face growing increasingly red the more Kyle Rayner remained abstinent. He wasn't a Green Lantern for nothing, after all. Will power was kind of his bread and butter. Even still, the constant deluge of Federal agents kicking and screaming at him was starting to wear the young man down.

And he was running out of ways to stall them.

"Uhm…isn't there something in the Constitution about this?"

"No. There isn't." came the agent's agitated reply.

"You sure? How can I trust you?"

"Are you for real, kid?"

"Why don't you go through every Amendment we have, just to be safe."

The agent palmed his forehead so hard Kyle thought he was going to break his nose. He could almost hear the grinding of teeth as the agent exerted every bit of self-control he had to not reach for his piece and start waving it around the heroes face.

Not that it would do him any good, mind you. But it would probably make him feel better…

Suddenly a blur of red and blue landed in front of them, the bustling air current forcing the agent to shield his eyes with his jacket. Kyle could only smirk as he stared at the regal form of Wonder Woman standing in front of him, her hands defiantly resting on her muscular, toned hips.

 _No Kyle, clean thoughts! Clean thoughts!_

"Gentlemen, if you have any complaints about the way the investigation is being handled, I suggest you take them up with me." She stated proudly. The agent's stupefied gaze morphed into a scowl as his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The scowl only increased when he saw the growing smirk on Wonder Woman's face.

"Perfect….." he murmured, "I can feel my ulcer pulsating already…"

"Hello Agent Mulder. How are the kids?"

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his brown hair. "If we're going to do this song and dance again, can I at least wait until someone's refilled the coffee and donuts?"

"Of course." Diana replied, noticing the amused look Kyle was giving her. She reached for her communicator as the agent sulked off to the rear of the barricade. "Wonder Woman to Batman, you're all clear to do your thing."

" _Thanks Diana. I owe you a gelato."_

"I'll book us a trip to Italy then. Wonder Woman out."

She turned to face Green Lantern in order to thank him for holding down the fort; however she paused as she was met with a befuddled look that rivaled Agent Mulder's.

"What is it Kyle?"

"Well…are you sure you should go to Italy with Batman? I mean, if he gets anywhere near the Vatican they might try to have a city wide exorcism."

He grunted as a chuckling Diana planted her elbow in his stomach, nearly doubling him over.

"Alright fine, I'll get out of your hair…" he wheezed as he limped away into the crowd, leaving Diana alone to fend off the re-approaching horde of agents.

…

 _Batman_

…

It sounds unbelievably corny, given the circumstances, but Diana is a godsend. There's no one else I know of that has the combined encyclopedic knowledge of laws, customs and procedures that she does, and the tact and patience to deal with the endless and derivative babble that comes out of these encounters. It really is amazing to watch her work…

As it stands though, it makes _my_ life significantly easier. It wouldn't have been difficult to sneak around the agents, but there's no telling how much evidence could have been compromised if they were marching around. Striking that worry out of my mind helps free up my senses so that I don't miss anything…

Including the fact that the building was _far_ too heavily protected…

The window was secured with a wide assortment of electronic and physical locks, there are more motion detectors on the main floor alone than there are in the West Wing of the White House, and there's a camera for every four square feet of office space. Something like that wouldn't be uncommon in a S.T.A.R Labs facility. But so far as my records show, this building is the head office of a small textile manufacturer, _Brampton & Family_. The security system would have costs almost an entire years' worth of profits, and there's no justification for them needing it, not unless they're the sole clothing outlet for the King of Saudi Arabia.

It doesn't add up.

The fact that the security system was _deactivated_ is equally perplexing. I, along with the Providence First Responders, were able to simply waltz right into the compound completely unabated _despite_ the extensive security system. And the cameras were playing a series of randomized loops together; on the plane ride over here I counted at least five unique playbacks splice into one continuous false image. A low level thug wouldn't have a hope and a prayer trying to crack the algorithms behind the tech used, and yet not a single counter measure was active. That either means that the killer was highly trained in advanced software engineering…

Or it was a trap.

The Question was _lured_ here, allowed to enter the building, and then killed. Considering how easy it was to find the body…this is probably the more likely scenario.

Any death involving a member of the superhero community is highly suspicious, even when it involves a paranoid loner like Vic. But the implications of a planned hit are deeply disturbing…

The body was found in an empty office, slouched against the wall. The door was left wide open, pale moonlight pouring into the barren room. Nothing more than an empty desk and a dismantled book shelf…

And a dead superhero…

The first responders didn't think he was dead at first, thought he was just some bum that wandered into the office and fell asleep. Hard not to see why; from my position at the door, it hardly seems like the scene of a murder. There's no blood or gore sprayed across the floor, no bullet holes dotting the walls. Question would have put up a fight; there should be _some_ residue of a battle. But with the naked eye, I can't see anything except a cold corpse.

I inspect the body first, gently pulling him off the wall. No dents or cracks where he was leaning against; must have settled here after he was killed. By what, though? Couldn't be a gun or a knife. No blunt force trauma…

Of course, once I finish pulling his head off the wall, the cause of death become strikingly obvious.

There's a dime sized hole in his head, right through the left side of his skull. His faceless mask is singed along the edge of the projectiles entrance point. Heat based weapon, cauterized the wound almost immediately. No brain residue either, only an equally burnt exit point at the back of his head. Whatever hit him, it went clean through his skull without expanding any of the tissue and liquid in his head.

That means it's some sort of laser based weapon, a direct energy projectile. But I don't see any scorch marks on the wall behind him. Strange…

There's no sign of physical damage on his torso either, so Vic most likely didn't have a real chance to fight back. Clothes are slightly rumpled but…hold on. That's odd; Vic usually keeps a written journal. Brings it with him everywhere. He's too paranoid to use a computer, so he writes everything involving his various investigations down by hand. Did he forget it at home?

No, unlikely. The man was just as obsessive with writing down his actions as he was with the conspiracies he investigated. If this was a professional hit…then whoever killed him must have taken it. But why?

Standing back to my full height, I tap the side of my cowl twice. The room is illuminated in various flashing hues as I pour over every square inch of the office. The cowl's scanning for everything; fingerprints, stray streaks of dust, flakes of skin, anything that would point to an unwanted guest being in this room recently.

Unsurprisingly, it finds nothing. The room is completely clean. Not even a single strand of hair. But that tells me everything I need to know.

Whoever killed Question had enough time on their hands to completely sweep the room. Considering how empty it looks, and how limited the number of employees in this company are, this office was probably collecting dust before Vic wandered in here. That's a hell of a clean job, something that could take as long as four hours with only one killer. For a team, maybe half an hour max, but a team wouldn't have been able to get the drop on Vic. One person, maybe. But not a team.

So whoever killed him had the resources to lead him into an ambush and enough time clean the room of any evidence before leaving. And they knew enough about him to immediately go for the journal after he was killed by a weapon that seems to defy the laws of ballistics.

Clearly, someone took offense to Vic's sticking his nose in their business, and decided it was worth the risk to take him out.

Jesus Vic, what the hell did you get yourself into this time?

"Batman to Wonder Woman, I'm finished. Ready to head out."

"Perfect timing; Superman just called an emergency founders meeting. And I'm pretty sure Agent Mulder's about drop one of his helicopters on me."

I'd like to see him try…she was only an Olympian for a few years after all…

"Understood, thanks for covering for me."

"No problem, Batman. I'm guessing you need to stop at the cave first, right?"

Hmmm, she knows me too well.

"I won't be long." I reply. "Just need to grab some tools before I present my findings. I get the feeling it's going to be a long couple of nights…"

"I'll be sure to have a coffee waiting for you then."

"Better bring one for Lantern too. He did _almost_ hep after all."

I can hear her chuckling on the other end of the communicator. "You probably wouldn't say that if you heard what he said about you."

"Then I'll just have to glower at him longer than normal." I reply lightly. "Batman out."

As the line goes dead, my gaze drops back to the body of Victor Sage, still slumped against the wall he landed on. I push down the painful emotions and even more painful memories as my eyes squeeze tighter, blocking myself out from the rest of the world around me. Sighing, I step out into the hall, hearing the growing commotion of heavy boots slapping against the polished floor. Hesitating for only a second, I wonder if there's any point in telling the cold body that he's just another lost name that I'll fight for when the sun goes down.

But I don't.

Instead, as quietly as a mortal man can possibly be, I slink off into the shadows, and disappear back into darkness…

…

…

…

 _ **Washington, D.C:**_

James Franklin Kirkpatrick stared out of the Oval Office's large window at the cresting sun, the gleam pouring into the unlit room through the clear glass. The green fields surrounding the White House sparkled in the early morning dew, each blade unmolested by the trampling of the Secret Service Agents that surrounded it.

It was a lot to take in, even for a life-long politician. But it was nothing if not beautiful.

"It feels weird." He said absent-mindedly, his gaze still directed out through his viewing window.

"Well, usually they give the _President-Elect_ a little time to acclimate," stated the man lounging on the President's couch, an expensive glass of brandy perched in his hand, "but considering how Carter went underground almost immediately after your victory…"

"Why do you think he did that?" The President asked. "I mean…it hardly strikes me as just a _sore loser_ kind of thing…"

The man gently placed his drink on its coaster and ran his fingers through his combed brown hair. "He ran with a bad crowd James, I told you that. It's why I suggested you run for office."

"I know I know. Thanks, by the way."

"For what?" he asked, raising his glass to his mouth again.

"You know what. My campaign would have floundered within thirty seconds if you hadn't invested so much time and…"

"Don't mention it. Really. As a concerned citizen, I only want what's best for my country."

"I believe you." James stated warmly. He crossed the floor to the opposite couch and plopped down, crossing his leg over his knee in the first real sign of relaxation he'd had in months. "Are you sure you don't want a cabinet position? You'd be more than cut out for one."

The man shook his head as he placed his empty glass back on the table. "No I'm sure. I'm not looking for favours, at least not yet anyways."

"Hmm, again, I believe you."

"So, what's next on the agenda?"

James rubbed his chin as he lounged back into the couch. "Well, I've got a few more cabinet positions that need to be filled. Not urgently, mind you, the Speaker said that he'd give me a few days to prepare considering the circumstances."

"How very cordial of him."

"And then there's the matter with the Question being killed last night…"

"The Question was killed? The conspiracy nut?" the man nearly shot forward in surprise. His brow contorted with lingering shock as he stroked his chin, musing with a low voice. "How come I'm always the last one to find out about this stuff?"

"Oh you're certainly not the last person. Outside the JLA, you're one of the very few who know."

"Ah, so they've got Batman on the case, do they? Well, hopefully they'll have it solved quickly then."

"Indeed." The President agreed. "Speaking of the JLA though, I need to ask you something."

The man's brow contorted yet again. "Of course, James. Shoot."

"Well…one of the cabinet positions still vacant is _Secretary of Meta-Human Affairs_ …"

"Ah," he interrupted, clasping his hands in front of him, "I see where this is going."

"You do? Good, good."

"Yes, you're worried that the damage inflicted by Waller in the position runs too deep to properly repair, correct?"

"On the money as usual." The President replied with a shaking head.

"The best course of action then is to let _them_ pick the candidate for you."

The President remained silent as he mulled that thought over in his head. He stared inquisitively at the man seated across from him. "Is that legal? Is that… _ethical_?"

"I would say so on both accounts, yes." He responded. "You're still picking the candidate yourself, they're just acting in an… _advisory_ role. And really, the DMA affects these superheroes far more than the rest of the populous. If anything, it will look like your administration is attempting to repair broken bridges between the White House and the JLA. Which, if I remember correctly, was a campaign promise."

"I suppose you're right." James conceded, staring wistfully out the window again from his seat. "No, you are right. That's a brilliant idea. Show's I'm serious about cooperating. Heh, I forgot how convincing you are."

"No need to be modest." He joked. "If they can't decide on a candidate either, I can always give you some names. But I'm sure they'll appreciate the gesture."

"No, they'll be eager to help. Wonder Woman's a politician too, after all." He rose from his seat and clasped his hands behind his back, drifting slowly back towards the window. He craned his neck slightly to look back at his guest. "Thanks for the pep-talk. You probably saved me more than a few headaches."

"It's the least I can do considering how you're not planning on naming a Chief of Staff." The man replied as he rose from his seat. He grabbed his coat off the edge of the couch and cupped it under his arm, sending another warm smile towards the President. "Remember, if you ever need anything; money, advice, more money, I'm just a phone call away."

"Don't worry, I won't forget." James replied, his attention fully turned back to the bright orange sun in the sky. He heard the light footfalls of his guest approach the door to the rest of the West Wing.

"Good to hear James. I'll let you get back to running the country then."

The door clicked shut as the man promptly exited the Oval Office. James chuckled to himself as he straightened his posture, the glow of the sun bathing over him.

"Hmmm, 'running the country'…it really _does_ feel weird…"

* * *

 **I may never have run a country before, but I bet that "weird feeling" is pre-mature aging combined with a permanent case of Irritable Bowel Syndrome.**

 **Can't be easy being the guy on top, especially if you're succeeding none other the Lex "I stole forty cakes" Luthor.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and don't be afraid to fire off a comment or nine in the place where comments go to mingle! And especially let me know who you feel about the mix of third and first person: if you like it, or if it's a distraction, or if you'd rather I just release a blank page instead of one with words. You know, that sort of thing.**

 **And as always, stay away from Objectivists.**

 **No, seriously.**


	3. Chapter 2: Hail to the Chief

**Whether or not this turns into a regular upload shindig of a chapter or so every three days, I don't know. But I'm honestly too excited to write this story to _not_ update as quickly as possible. So...hopefully expect fairly frequent updates until life decides that it doesn't like how I'm running the joint, and I get booted out by the Board of Governors (also know as school, family, job, and things humans must do to survive, like east, sleep and breathe...)**

 **Anyways, thank you all kindly for the reviews! I'm glad that you are both enjoying the story and are completely in the dark! Sadistic, yes, but that's how mysteries work (I think).**

 **Also I'm glad that the point of view switches went over well; as I've mentioned to some individuals, I thought it would make it feel more... _comic booky_ , which is a word (well two but...), so I'm glad that you guys like it! Be sure to let me know if it starts getting meh-ish. **

**And as always, enjoy the story!**

 **(DC owns them...and it probably owns you too. Don't look in the mirror, the man with the hollow eyes wants more than just the sense of sight back...)**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2**_

 _ **"Hail to the Chief"**_

"… _in the midst of seven candle sticks one like unto the Sun of man…"_

 _ **The JLA Watchtower-The Moon:**_

Seven figures sat stoically at a large, circular table, the letters _JLA_ painted into its dull grey metal. The air was still as a palpable silence hung over the members, each one lost in deep contemplation. They were superheroes; modern myths made reality. Each one possessed either the power or the skill to face down planet devouring monsters and obliterate invading fleets without so much as a sideways glance.

The Man of Steel: the alien dressed in red and blue that descended from the skies to save his adopted world.

The Amazonian Princess: the regal warrior who could dismantle armies with her words just as swiftly as with her fists.

The Dark Knight: the pinnacle of human perfection and achievement, who fought with gods from the shadows and could demolish them with little more than his mind.

The Martian Telepath: the most powerful creature on the planet, capable of tearing through body and soul alike with little more than a wayward thought.

The Green Lantern: the young and eager protector of Earth with the capability to make anything he wills.

The Scarlet Speedster: the man faster than sound, light, and maybe even time.

…and Plastic Man, the former convict named Patrick O'Brian, who if he ever decided that he was done being _mere_ comic relief, could perhaps be the most powerful, and _dangerous_ , of them all.

To the seven billion earthbound souls, these seven sat atop the precipice of human wonderment, the zenith of a larger and ever growing number of modern day gods. They along with every other costumed hero that prowled the streets of soared through the skies were the invincible and unstoppable protectors of everyone, and everything that sat on the precious tree of life.

And for the first time in…well…none of them could really say…they were reminded, bluntly, that they weren't as invincible or as unstoppable as they thought.

One of Earth's protectors was dead. Naturally, everyone seated at the table could ask only one question.

Why?

As if subconsciously tuned to the same thought, six of the members of the Justice League of America turned towards the dark figure enveloped in his inky black cloak. Hesitating for only a moment, he rose, and with it the lights of the room dimmed, the windows shut, and a glowing green hologram materialized at the centre of the table. Displayed through the green hue was the information of one Victor Szasz, aka Vic Sage.

Also known as the Question.

Batman quietly cleared his throat as he returned the attentive stares of his colleagues. When he had fully plotted out his desired path for the presentation, he began in a low voice.

"As most of you know, at approximately 0200 hours yesterday morning, the body of Vic Sage was discovered by the Providence Police Department, 7th Precinct."

" _Yesterday_ morning?" asked The Flash, aka Wally West incredulously. "Why are we just going over this now?"

"Legal hurdles." Wonder Woman responded. "The FBI took some…convincing to allow us access to the body. Batman still hasn't fully finished his investigation."

"I don't think I've even started…" he mumbled under his breath. J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, leaned forward as he rested his elbows on the table.

"Is there any indication of what killed him?"

The green hologram morphed into a snap shot of Vic's face, the singed hole on his head clearly visible. Despite his years as a Green Lantern, Kyle Rayner couldn't help but grimace as the grisly image was enlarged, no matter how sheepish it made him feel.

Though it helped slightly to see Superman tense up as well…

"Heat based weapon." Batman answered. "Cauterized the wound and cut through the tissue and brain matter without any further external damage; to Vic or otherwise."

"That sounds unbelievably advanced. Do we know of any weapon that could do that?" asked a composed Superman, his arms crossed over the red and gold emblem on his chest.

"Not presently, no. It could be some type of smart projectile, but I don't like the implications of that. Especially if it's being used on superheroes."

"So Captain Kirk finally snapped and offed ol' Vicky?" Plastic Man morphed into a red and black image of Spock. "How very… _illogical_ …"

"We don't know if this was a planned hit yet." Superman turned his gaze to Batman as he spoke. "Do we?"

"Not for sure…but given what I was able to gather from the crime scene, it seems likely."

A cacophony of curses emanated from the table. The green hologram disappeared as light flooded the sterile room again. Plastic Man's enlarged hand covered his eyes as he cursed under his breath.

"Jeez, richest guy in the galaxy and he doesn't even think to put in some damn _dimmers_ or somethin'…"

When those not blessed with advanced sight finally adjusted to the new glare in the room, Superman again spoke up.

"Do we have any leads?"

Batman produced a large brown file and lightly tossed it onto the table, a few stray notes spilling out onto the grey surface. "Not much. Though on a hunch, I looked a little deeper into the company that owned the building he was found in. _Brampton & Family_. They spent far too much money on security systems to be _just_ a textiles company."

"Find anything?"

"It was owned almost equally by four individuals. I say _was_ because three of those four immediately sold their holdings in the company mere _minutes_ after the approximate time of death. There's more to the company than meets the eye, and I don't think it was a coincidence that the Question was found there…"

"I'm guessing you're going to be spending a lot of time getting acquainted with Question's _notes_?" Wonder Woman inquired.

"If I can find anything, then yes. His journal was missing from his body…"

"Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser…" hummed Plastic Man as his body shifted into a copy of Sherlock Holmes, "I dare say we have a mystery on our hands!"

"You're using the wrong book pelts for brains." Teased Kyle as he smacked O'Brian in the head with a glowing green copy of _Alice in Wonderland_.

"Should we release a statement?" asked Wally. "I mean…I didn't really know the guy…or like the guy…but he was one of us. Sort of. _Ish_ …"

"On a good day." Kyle agreed.

"It would be best to keep this under wraps as much as we can." Stated Wonder Woman. "Media attention will only hamper Batman's investigation and bring unwanted eyes on the League. And I find it hard to remember that I'm an Ambassador of _Peace_ when the media is around…"

Plastic Man's form changed into a caricature of Bill O'Reilly. "Is this about that piece FOX did on you? Because we all know it was crap. Pure, stupid crap. I mean, how would you even get a hold of that many sheep? You can't explain that!"

He sunk into a puddle of red and gold on his chair under the equally intense scowls of Wonder Woman and Batman. Hoping to prevent a second superhero death, Superman rose from the table and addressed the group with a slightly elevated voice.

"Then I'd say that concludes the first order of business: Batman will continue to pursue any leads he can, and we'll all do the logical thing and stay out of his way. Under threat of a batglare and stern talking to." Superman smirked at the unflinching Dark Knight as he finished.

"No, anything but that!" Plastic Man wailed.

"Alright. Item two on the agenda involves our new President. We need…"

A low hum cut the Man of Steel off as Wonder Woman reached into her boot. Seconds later, she emerged from under the table with a small messaging device clasped in her fingers. She sported an amused look as she addressed the table.

"Hmm, speak of the devil. My presence has been _requested_ at the White House by none other than President Kirkpatrick himself…"

Batman's cape flowed lazily back over his shoulders, an idea brewing in the depths of his mind. Superman meanwhile regarded her with a warm smile and merely waved his hand at her. "Then we shouldn't keep you waiting, considering how you're shaving thirty minutes off my meeting."

"Oh thank the lord!" Wally, Kyle and O'Brian not-so-subtly exclaimed in unison. A glare from J'onn across the table replanted their rears in their seats with sheepish looks plastered on their faces. A smirking Wonder Woman rose from the table and promptly made her way to the door.

"It's too bad I have to miss my _favorite_ part of these meetings to go play politics, but sacrifices must be made."

As the doors closed, a sickening thought rattled through Kyle's brain. With all too real terror in his eyes, he looked pleadingly towards Superman.

"Wait…she _didn't_ mean…"

"Item number three on the Agenda: the JLA budget…"

The troublesome trio groaned and sank further into their seats while J'onn remained in his place, a sly smirk slowing growing on his Martian lips. A pouting Wally turned to Superman with arms outstretched and face fully exasperated. "How come Wonder Woman and Batman get to miss this?"

Superman's brow furrowed. "What do you mean _and Bat_ …" spinning quickly, he turned towards the now empty spot where Batman had previously been standing.

Even after the lengthy years they had fought side by side, and even after Zatanna had confirmed that Batman didn't have teleportation powers, Superman was still equally shocked every time he pulled his famous disappearing act. This time was no exception.

"How did…..he just…" he stammered. His gaze fell upon the smirking Martian seated next to him. "J'onn, did you see him leave?"

"Of course I did." He replied with a neutral tone.

"W-how?"

"I see everything, Clark." An equally neutral response betrayed only by the continually growing smile. To accentuate his point, a third eye materialized on the side of his head, staring directly at the area that Batman had previously been standing in.

Kyle fought to supress his gag reflex.

"Eeew…"

…

…

…

Though he wasn't trying to be overly stealthy with her, Batman still _almost_ managed to sneak up on Diana as she prepared to depart from their lunar base. She turned around at the last minute to greet the still stoic face of the Dark Knight, her thoughts split between wondering what the problem was and how long it would take Clark to realize that he wasn't in the room…

 _Ten seconds_ …she figured… _maybe more_ …

"You're not disappointed that the entire meeting wasn't dark and gloomy, are you?" she asked. Batman shook his head.

"No one here really knew Vic besides me, and even then it was mostly through one off encounters. They're alert and they understand the brevity of the situation, I can tell, but I'm not really surprised that I'm the only one taking it seriously at the moment."

"In fairness, you do have a tendency to take _everything_ seriously."

"Not everything." Batman corrected. "Just the important stuff."

"Is that why you missed Kyle's birthday?"

"He's not 12. And also no, I was busy lobbying Congress to declare Gotham a Federal Disaster Area. Speaking of which…"

Diana's brow arched. "Concerned about who I'm talking to?"

"I'm not spying on him if that's what you're implying." He replied, though Diana noted that the tone was not cold or defensive, rather… _informative_. "He's most likely trying to repair any damaged between us and the White House, so I don't think we have to worry about him in that way _just yet_." He emphasized the last bit of his sentence, clearly telegraphing his inherent distrust of _any_ authority figure. He was making no exceptions…but patience _was_ a virtue after all. He removed a second brown folder from under his cape and handed it to Diana.

"I _am_ worried that he could be the target of an assassination by one of our less reputable acquaintances. While you're down there, you should give him that."

"The folder?"

"Yes."

"And in it…"

"There's a list of villain aliases, history, and weaknesses of any past enemy who might attempt a political assassination."

"Bruce…"

"And superheroes that are prone to mind control."

"Seriously Bruce…"

"What?"

Diana tried to supress a chuckle as she handed the folder back to the puzzled Dark Knight. "I think this is a bit excessive. He's clearly nervous; we don't want to smother him with even more stress than he's already under."

Batman's face was blank as he pondered her comment. Finally conceding, he slowly grabbed the folder from her outstretched hand.

"Fine. But I think you should at least mention that we're concerned about his safety just as much as the Secret Service is. That would help show him that there's no hard feelings between us."

"Fair enough." Diana agreed. "But I don't think we should _loom_ so early into the relationship, do you?"

"No…no I suppose not." Replied Bruce, wondering if there was a double entendre he was missing. "I won't keep you any longer then."

He brisk fully began walking back towards the meeting room when Diana's voice called out to him.

"Bruce?"

He turned quickly to face s smirking Diana, he hands placed on her hips.

"You're still not off the hook."

His brow arched under his mask. "Good. You aren't either." He replied defensively, though with a playful undertone of his own. Diana chuckled as she turned and murmured to herself.

"Hmm, man-child…"

"I heard that."

"I don't care." She replied as she disappeared down the Watchtower's winding halls. Batman followed suit in the opposite direction, unaware that both heroes spotted equally large grins on their faces…

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

 _ **Washington, D.C:**_

I am an Amazon.

Though, like my sisters, I am trained in the art of war and death, I know that physical violence is the most reprehensible and often most ineffective method of dealing with conflict.

From our very beginnings, we were instilled with a deep longing for peace, to strive for the victorious day where the world, in all its divisive nature, could finally throw aside its aggression and stand side by side as family.

It is why I am a diplomat, an Ambassador not only of my people and home, but of Peace. I know many ways to kill or maim a man, and yet I prefer the discourse of dialogue. I prefer to meet fellow warriors across a table strewn with paperwork than a scorched field strewn with corpses. I'll gladly shake hands with an enemy and accept their surrender; so long as they understand that a vicious heel awaits them should they ever cross me. But I give them a chance; it's in my nature to love and to trust.

Some call me naïve; gods know Bruce did. But if a man as stubborn as he could eventually see the merits of my methods, then I do not fight in vain.

I am an Amazon, and I choose the path of peace.

Which is why, as I descend from the clouds and soar over the white marble of the most powerful city on the planet, I carry no weapon with me. There is no room for a sword when words will suffice.

I'd also be more than tempted to ram it through a Congressman or two…

Amazons may be highly trained and disciplined, but even the eldest and wisest monk would have a hard time not wanting to swallow their own head around the ankle-deep _sewage_ that festers here.

" _The only difference between Washington and Gotham is that the criminals all have nice cars."_ Bruce said that to me on more than one occasion. I used to think he was just being overly cynical.

Then again, I _was_ a little naïve when I first started…

The White House was never particularly unwelcoming, not like the Capitol Building is. While Clark understandably would get a crippling headache every time he came near the city under Luthor's Presidency, he never had to address the US House of Representatives.

It's a pain that currently only I and Bruce share. He once joked that he'd rather have his parents murdered again than step through those doors.

I don't think he was actually joking to be perfectly honest…

I recall watching movie not too long ago where I wise old man, a farm hand, and a pair of robots descended upon a small desert village. The old man waved his arm over the houses and shops and declared to the farm hand that he'd _"never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."_

I seriously beg to differ…

I shouldn't be having these negative thoughts, especially as I'm now touching down on the grass of the White House. I shouldn't internally scowl at the portraits I pass as I'm led down the polished marble halls. I shouldn't wonder why the hordes of tourists that scurry down the halls would want to waste their hard earned money on an abridged trip through a building that isn't nearly as old or as white as the people that inhabit it. I shouldn't want to publically declare that a blind, deaf, and armless chimpanzee could do a better job running a country than the revolving door of lawyers, businessmen, and lobbyists that currently infect the historic landmarks.

And I shouldn't want to laugh at the fact that a bunch of Canadians managed to burn the city down before Canada was even a country.

But, I am an Amazon. I am trained to handle any situation that I face. I was educated by the scores of scrolls and lore that make up the great Athenian Library.

More importantly, I got a crash course in dealing with stubborn mules from a certain teammate. That is worth more than an entire life time spent lecturing with Socrates or Hobbes. Even if I remain a little headstrong at times…

So, when the doors to the Oval Office part, and I step into the domain of the Leader of the Free World, I am cordial, composed, and above all, confident.

After all, President Kirkpatrick seems like a very nice guy.

"Wonder Woman! I'm glad you could make it! I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important, but…"

"It's quite alright Mr. President." I say. "The entire JLA is happy that you wished to speak with us. Especially since you've certainly got your hands full at the moment."

He motions for me to sit on one of the couches in the centre of his office, a seat which I gladly take. He motions to a drink cart nestled in the corner of his office, which I refuse with a waving hand. He begins again as he approaches his seat across from me.

"I can certainly say that it's been…busy, over the past few…..god, I guess it's only been a few hours huh?"

"That it has." I agree as I cross my leg over my opposite knee.

"The thing that gets me the most is the security. I've never really been in a position where I needed surveillance 24/7…"

I can't supress a smirk. "One of my teammates wanted to assure you that your safety is of our top concern as well during you… _transition_ period. I don't know if that helps, but…"

"Oh it does. In more ways that you can guess." He chuckles lightly and places and arm lazily on the top of the couch. He's being very personable and kind. He's masking a slight nervousness by trying to be accommodating and more than a little meek.

I can remember I time where I would have given it no second though and simply assumed he was genuine. That has been beaten out of me by several, less than pleasant encounters in the political ring during my time in Man's World…

A wise political operative would paint him or herself as a submissive and overly eager ally in order to throw the opposing party of guard. The opponent would become complacent in their perceived weakness, plan their actions around a single, deadly lie so that when they show their true colours, any and all stratagems and plans and footholds in the proceedings are immediately torn asunder. The rug is pulled out from under your feet, you're sent tumbling backwards down the stairs, and your previously tame foe is now standing over you with a dagger at your throat.

In many ways, a battle of political wits is similar to a battle of militaristic strength. And in many ways, it's infinitely more important.

President Kirkpatrick could either be a genuine tender soul thrust flailing into the maelstrom of the political world…

Or he could be a vicious predatory ready to pounce at my throat. A barracuda in a goldfishes clothing. Knowing the politics of the land, _especially_ when said land involves a hill filled with the agents and operatives of Luthor's previous administration, I'm completely prepared for this to be the _real_ James Franklin Kirkpatrick.

But, I am an Amazon. It is in my nature to love and trust. So, for now, I treat him as an undying ally. And say I silent prayer that he never betrays my trust.

For his own safety, of course…

"May I ask what you wished to discuss?" I inquire, my hands respectfully folded in my lap. The President's arm returns from the top of the couch as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"Right…well it's nothing major. But…"

Suddenly he rises from his seat and walks to the nearest window, his gaze peering out into the night sky of Washington. He loosens his tie as he continues to address me.

"Did you know that when the City Planners sat down to design Washington, D.C., their intention was to build a city that would intimidate and humble foreign heads of state?"

"I didn't know that." I concede.

"It's true. The White House has the single greatest home court advantage in the modern world."

Interesting. Labyrinthine speeches. He could easily be using this as a method of distracting me. Or, he could be a nervous rambler.

As Plastic Man said, " _curiouser and curiouser"…._

"But you, you're not so easily intimidated, are you? Not just you, the League I mean."

"While there are many ways I could compare Congress to an alien parasite, its ability to instil _fear_ in me isn't one of them." I attempt to add humour into the mix to keep the mood light. Mostly because I can't say that I anticipated the conversation taking this route.

Granted, I don't think I was _ever_ really sure why he wanted to speak to me…

He chuckles at my comment and continues. "Well, the way I see it, as President…and I understand this is going to sound rather… _Machiavellian_ , but as President, I need to have as many balls in my court as possible."

"Go on." I prod with an incredulous glance.

"Kings and Presidents and Prime Ministers…America's been handling that for centuries now. And believe it or not, but I can work I crowd; Congress shouldn't be a problem with me."

Here's the cocky attitude I anticipated…

"Point is, when we piss one of those guys off, it's not that hard to find a solution. But pissing the JLA off…"

"What are you implying?"

"I'm just worried that Luthor damaged the relationship between this building and you heroes beyond repair and that I'd be behind on a campaign promise only hours into my presidency…" he seemed to notice my increasing glower. "Probably should have just said that first, huh?"

"We figured you were worried about this," I respond, noticing the nervous rubbing of his neck as I spoke, the cocky attitude melting away as his criss-crossing dialogue came to a close. "And we want you to understand that the JLA does not hold grudges. We have no reason not to trust you…" I almost add Bruce's _yet_ to that. Almost…

"R-really?" he asks, slightly timid. "That's, well that's great! I'm…I'm glad to see that I'm not in nearly as deep a hole as I thought!"

"You've got a monumental task ahead of you Mr. President. We wouldn't want to add to your stress and worries."

"Much appreciated Wonder Woman, much appreciated indeed." He grabs a folder off of his desk and plops back onto the couch, a toothy grin crossing his lips. "But…well here." He hands me the folder.

I open it up to see an extensive list of names, each one adorned with a picture and a brief bio.

Yet another strange turn of events…this entire conversation is…very unique…

"To show that we're committed to fully working with the JLA," he continues, "my advisors and I think it would be a good idea if _you_ picked the next Secretary of Meta Human Affairs, since you'll be working with the department fairly frequently I'm sure. If you don't see a name you like on there, feel free to suggest an outside one; this was just a preliminary list that we thought you'd be familiar with."

I eye him curiously. His grin doesn't disappear.

"It's technically just a recommendation, but we'll follow your lead on this. We feel that the Senate will more than likely confirm whatever candidate we end up choosing. And yes, it's completely legal; I asked the very same question."

I have to say, I'm shocked. In all my years in the political arena, I don't think I could have ever anticipated something like this happening. It's fully understandable that he would want to ensure a strong connection between the Watchtower and the White House, but to go so far as to have us recommend a Cabinet position?

I pour over the names intently, still unable to make sense of this. Names go by in a blur, some trustworthy, some not. I see Martin Suarez's name, a viable candidate. I see Franklin Rock's name, a _less_ viable candidate. Steve's name is even here, with special notes highlighting his previous work with me.

It all seems too good to be true.

Which means it likely is…

They could easily pin a misstep or a constitutional crisis on us if we made the pick. It seems more like a secret backdoor for the administration than it does a show of good faith.

A part of me wants to call him out on that, make sure he knows that he isn't dealing with a rookie from the State Department.

But I am an Amazon, and I will not besmirch him.

In any event, this would need the League's approval first, and I can already tell that it will be nothing short of a nose-bleed inducing headache. Arguing with Bruce can be fun…

But it can also be infuriating beyond the limits of sanity…to say nothing of the rest of the league…

Gods I wish there was another woman up there with me sometimes…

"This is a very kind gesture, Mr. President, but I believe it would be prudent for the JLA to remain as neutral as possible in world affairs. If I may speak candidly," I unfold my hands from my lap and smile as warmly as I possibly can, "I feel like this might complicate our standing internationally, something that would hamper our ability to respond to disasters in the future. _Separation of Church and State_ , and all that. I hope you understand…"

He looked puzzled, I could tell. But…not offended. He returned my smile and rose from the chair, extending his hand towards me. "Of course I do Wonder Woman, I _absolutely_ do."

"I'll be sure to talk it over with the rest of the League, but I think that it's for the best. We thank you for your consideration, though."

Grasping his hand and shaking it lightly, I pour my eyes over him again to read for any noticeable shifts in body language. So far as I can tell, he is not offended in the slightest.

Which means I have done my job. Despite the odd hurdles…

"I appreciate that, but I understand your position. Still…I feel like there should be _something_ I can do to help."

Something clicked in his brain; I can see it flashing in his eyes. I tense for a brief second, attempting to prepare myself for yet another improbable suggestion.

"That UNSC resolution you're trying to pass…I know previous administrations have adamantly opposed it. What would you say if I reversed its fortunes, hmm? Put the full support of the White House behind it?"

Apparently, I did not prepare enough…I hope my mouth isn't as agape as it feels…

"I-I…that would be…an _enormous_ help, Mr. President. I…I honestly don't know what to say…"

"Well then, let's call it a deal, shall we? A free one on the house…err White House that is, just to make sure the past isn't even water under the bridge anymore; it's straight out into the canal. Better than spitting on our hands and shaking, right?"

"Yes…I think we can agree on that."

"Excellent. Well if you'll excuse me Wonder Woman, I still have a few things to do before I close shop. But make sure you stay tuned to the news wires; I'll be naming my new Secretary within twenty four hours, I anticipate."

He winks. Not in a lecherous way…but I'm still not sure I fully trust it to be wholesome.

This entire meeting has been one unexpected turn after the other. My thoughts and feelings are a torrent in my very soul right now, and while his intentions seem pure…

…there's something deep within me that demands I ask more questions. Demands that my skepticism be placated. Demands that I wrap him in my lasso of truth and finally set my worries at ease…

But I don't.

"Understood, Mr. President. Thank you for wishing to see us."

I turn on my heel and walk briskly out of the bone white Oval Office, realizing now that the room was far more suffocating than I previously thought. It's my own thought weighing down on me, that much is sure…but I can't help but rejoice when I'm finally out on the soft, luscious grass of the White House lawn, feeling the cool embrace of a late night breeze. I can trust these things, Gaea hasn't betrayed me. Not yet.

I take to the sky, quickly leaving the smoggy and grimy streets of Washington behind, is visage becoming more smoggy and grimy the more I think about it. Once I pass the clouds, I feel free.

I am an Amazon, it is in my nature to love and trust.

But as I'm increasingly finding out…I don't always like it…

…

…

…

 _ **Undisclosed Location-Somewhere along the Gulf of Mexico:**_

J. Allen Carter, the former Vice President…no former _President_ of the United States was not a paranoid person by nature.

He lived a public life with public goals and ambitions. He shared his thoughts candidly and often without apology, regardless of the public backlash. He never thought to hide behind a wall of secrets and shadows, or to isolate himself from the eyes of his fellow countrymen behind even more walls of secrets and shadows.

He didn't fear the light.

Until he met Lex Luthor. Until he suffered a debilitating brain aneurism and essentially signed away his life to be his goddamn _scapegoat_. After every other member of the National Security Council went underground, led by the bald bastard himself, he realized the brunt of his costly, costly, error. Carter was left in the blinding spotlights of an enraged public to flounder in the filth of Lex's shadow, a blackened silhouette that crept across the ground to ensnare him in controversy and hate no matter where he tried to slink off too.

He liked to think that he was tough enough to handle it, that he could weather the storm and emerge, if not victorious, at least vindicated.

But they were after him now, he knew. He could tell that they crept in the darkness, searching for him. The moment he lost the election, he lost the one protection he had, the one chance to escape from the spiralling nightmare that he now found himself unable to wake from.

He had to go underground too, somewhere secluded. Secretive. Safe.

They'd never find him there; he wouldn't allow himself to believe that. He had to be safe, he just _had_ to be. Surely there stretch couldn't reach so far? Surely there was a limit? Surly the horror stories were mere exaggerations passed down around the proverbial water cooler to ensure mouths stayed shut and facts stayed hidden.

But just in case he was wrong, he made sure to find a fortress. A fortress nestled on the secluded rocks of an unmarked beach, the waves of the Gulf of Mexico slapping against its rocky shores. The moon hung low over its gunmetal grey walls, each one adorned with an assortment of plants aimed at hiding the rows of barbed wire.

His windows were sealed with an array of physical and electronic, as advanced as locks could conceivably get. Motion detectors littered the floors, and there were at least four cameras looking at every square foot of floor. Tripwires dotted the front and back lawns, sound detectors sat at every corner…

…and guards, lots of guards. Enough body armour and guns and bullets to do away with a small army.

He was safe, he was sure of it.

Of course, he hadn't heard about the Question's death yet. The incident at _Brampton & Family_ had yet to reach his ears, so he lived in ignorance of the fact that no lock was safe from their fingers. Or that no camera was safe from their hackers. Or that no guard was safe from their weapons.

He realized that a little too late…

 _Of course they could find me. Of course they could disable every goddamn safety I have around me. Of course they could slaughter my men like stumps of wood. They can do anything, I_ know _they can do anything…_

He had underestimated one opponent, and it had cost him his job.

Now he had underestimated his last, deadly foe, and it was going to cost him his life…

Which is why he was now simply waiting, sitting in his dark living room, trembling, clutching a fully loaded shotgun, and staring with glossy eyes at the crimson embers of his fireplace. Waiting for the end to come.

He didn't hear the muffled footfalls as boots scurried across the floor. Nor did he hear the silent murmurs from the cloaked assassins as they descended around him.

But he did hear a weapon click, and then begin to charge…

By the time he had turned to face his angel of death, the trigger was already pulled, and the searing beam of heat was already heading for his forehead.

He didn't even scream…

* * *

 **See, this is what happens when Alarm Force (TM) goes out of business...**

 **Anyways, yet another chapter is in the books! Hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **You'll be happy to know that I have the entire story plotted out, with chapter breakdowns and everything, so hopefully the next chapter is coming soon with some gratuitous spooning between Batman and Superman...I mean action...**

 **Yes...manly action**


	4. Chapter 3: Permanent Representative

***EDIT: Apologies that this chapter had to be re-uploaded. Don't know why...but I think is haunted. Don't quote me on that, but it would explain the mystery of "Scooby Doo and the Vanishing Chapter".**

 **Further (original) apologies for this being a day late (at least I think it's a day late...time is weird...), but I needed an extra day to fully finish and tweak this chapter.**

 **One thing I noticed about "Reign of Terror" (because yeah I guess it's still a running joke that I plug that story even though I'm not going to be working on it until I finish this one), but a lot of the chapters fluctuate in length. THIS story on the other hand...well the benefit of breaking down every chapter is that I can do far longer chapters in this story (I think this one breaks 10,000 words...so new record yay!). So hopefully I can give you guys way more content per each upload (which is a good thing I think, right?)**

 **Also, big thanks to CrazyPhenom for allowing me to bounce some ideas off him, and for allowing me to rejig my story into a far less...well I like it a lot better. And I don't think I managed to spoil anything for him either, which is a double win! So...thanks CrazyP. you were the Len Wein to my Alan Moore (even though I'm well aware that Alan Moore's pocket lint alone has far more talent than I, and also despite the fact that Alan Moore is exactly 41 years older than me he still has about 18 times more hair than I do...not that it's important I think...)**

 **Anyways: legal stuff goes here, and I thank you all for the reviews, follows, favorites, and support! Hope you enjoy the next installment, and I'll see you at the other Author's Note!**

 **Oh and while I'm here (in the future), I'll address a comment for chapter 3 that appeared, written by "Ag". Now...I THINK you're asking "how do Wonder Woman and Batman do adult things", though I honestly can't tell since the review kinda came out like it had to burrow through a thick tunnel to get here (not to be overly snide but...meh). Now whether or not there is going to be any bumping uglies in this story, I won't say, but I CAN answer your question just in general. Precise Muscle Control. Works for Superman. Look that shit up; it's canon too.**

 **Honestly, the "Men of Steel, Women of Tissue Paper" argument (reversed in this case) doesn't hold much water for me for three reasons: 1) there's a hell of a lot more to a relationship than just sex, so even if Lois or Bruce would melt into the bedspread, it really doesn't mean they can't have a meaningful relationship, 2) I trust that super powered characters are careful enough (when they want to be) to know that they can't be pelvic thrusting like Michael Jackson without proper precautions, especially since Diana and Clark aren't even close to idiots (no matter what Frank Miller wants us to think), and finally (this is the big one), 3) you're asking how a mentally disturbed version of Donald Trump who dresses in high tech pyjamas and a talking, magical mound of super clay can have sex...I feel like if your suspension of disbelief can get passed those two facts and yet it runs into a brick wall about coitus, then maybe you're focusing on the wrong things...**

 **Just saying...**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3**_

 _ **"Permanent Representative"**_

" _And hast borne, and hast patience, and for my name's sake hast laboured, and hast not fainted."_

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

 _ **New York City, New York:**_

There are one hundred and ninety three countries within the United Nations, one hundred and ninety three different borders with their own histories and identities and cultures. Some of them were forged in the fires of war and tribulation. Others came about peacefully, the product of negotiation and compromise. All of them have voices, all of them have views, and all of them have a representative to stand for them in the chaos that is the international arena.

It really is an arena, the more I think about it. Like the ancient, gladiatorial coliseums of Rome. There a warrior was pitted against increasingly dire odds in order to prove themselves worthy. Armed with nothing but wit and preparedness, they'd trudge into the blood soaked dirt and bravely face the onslaught, with entire towns and villages waiting in the audience above, waiting for you to either raise your sword triumphantly…

…or to jeer at your corpse as the bits and pieces were dragged off the field.

Of course instead of lions and gladiators, I fight trade agreements and dictatorships…and occasionally the wishes of my own Queen. And instead of merely fighting for my life, I'm fighting for the survival of my home and everyone who lives there.

People like to think of politics as a boring and futile game played for the amusement of old, rich men who move their players like chess pieces from the shadowy protection of their fortresses. While they may be right about the latter bit, politics is _anything_ but boring, at least to those who have to live in its realm. And it most _definitely_ is not pointless. One thousands wars are fought and resolved, hundreds of nations futures are set or lost, and a billion lives either improved or destroyed with nothing but words and promises and handshakes. What happens in the halls of the United Nations, or any other institution of government, may seem trite to some…

…but to call it _pointless_ …that just borders on ignorance. Bliss as it may be, it is still ignorant.

Otherwise one hundred and ninety three people are just wasting their time.

One hundred and ninety three representatives…

…and right now, they're all staring at me, waiting for me to finally speak.

The lights of the General Assembly building bathe the podium in a hot glare, masking the faces of the people hidden behind them. I can pick up some of their murmurs; few of them have ever really trusted me or the Amazon's that I represent. Whether it's through genuine fear or a deep rooted sexism I can't fully tell, at least not with some, but today that fight doesn't matter.

Today I am not here as a representative of the Amazons, but rather of the Justice League of America.

I am not dressed in my Amazonian robes, or the red, gold and blue of my Wonder Woman armour. Rather, I wear a plain suit and skirt, modest in every conceivable way. I wish to show them that I am one of them, merely pleading that they do what is best for their people.

I have made this speech at least ten times. I've made speeches in _general_ well over a thousand. So I am far from nervous. I'm a creature of this habitat, as insane as it can be sometimes. But I do not cross the stage washed of any emotion. I do not approach the podium and grip its sides with a blank face. I do not shift through my notes fully prepared to drag out a dreary dialogue.

No, I am smiling and leaping with an excitement that I usually only feel while defending the innocent or fighting alongside my friends. Because for once, I will deliver this speech…and the outcome will be _positive_ …

"Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished representatives of the nations of the world, I thank you for allowing me the time to speak today. I come not as a diplomat trying to push the interests of my nation into the spotlight of these hallowed halls, but as someone whose only existence is to strive for a world of peace, compassion, and understanding for every living, breathing creature under the stars.

"Almost a decade ago, a group was formed in an effort to better serve the needs and safety of the world, a group that many call _superheroes_. We banded together so that when the cry for help rang out through the night, we could respond with every available resource to ensure that on that day there would be no mourning and destruction, only a rejoicing in life and the strength of community.

"Some, including members of this esteemed organization that I stand before, have called us gods, both as a term of endearment and of abhorrence. But we are not gods. We do not seek to lounge high above the world, nor do we feel we are perfect beings who can do no wrong. As hard as it may be to see sometimes, at our core we are humans like you. And just like you, we always wish we could do more, find other ways to ensure that no one in need every slips through the cracks when they call out.

"But we know that we can only do more by your word and permission; it is you the elected, and in some cases unelected, men and women who control the tides, and we must be willing to sail the currents dictated by your hands and your hands alone lest we overstep the boundaries we have carefully placed for ourselves. Years ago the Justice League International was set up with your permission, and by your hand it was also disbanded. We know that in light of events surrounding the former League, you are all hesitant to officially support or sanction any superhero activities, especially the more powerful countries amongst you. We respect and understand your reservations.

"As I said though, we always seek to do more if we can. This is why I present a modified offer yet again for any country to begin the process of setting up direct communications with the JLA and to consolidate our resources when needed, all to _your_ exact specifications. This way, in your time of crisis, you may call on us, sans any logistical battles, and we can help do the only thing we wish to do, the only thing we were _born_ to do…save lives.

"I know in the past that petty politics has prevented many of you from doing this, as many were under the impression that it would put you at odds with your other allegiances. But with the promise of the White House, I graciously present this offer again, in the hopes that many of you will take us up on our offer so that we may, to the best of our abilities, do the job we swore our lives to. President Kirkpatrick wishes for the best of his nation and seeks to form a closer alliance with us. I believe that it is prudent to ensure that every other nation here is given the same chance, something the White House assures me they are more than eager to support.

"We do not have to put it to a vote, nor do we wish to engage in a mass media campaign. We merely want to present the offer to you, and allow you as sovereign leaders to take the next step. If you do decide to follow suit, you may speak to me at any time to set the process in motion. And if not, we at the JLA understand, and _hope,_ that you will still call upon us if you feel it necessary. This is merely an offer of consolidating resources as best we can without forcing you to do anything you would otherwise be against. Either way, the offer will _always_ be open.

"Again, I thank you all for granting me this opportunity to speak. May the light of Eros shine warmly on all of you, and may you, and your people, flourish."

My smile never fades from my face, but I immediately turn from the podium. It's not in my nature to wait for applause or gratification, so I pay little attention to any commotion that is transpiring around me. Unless, of course, someone is in trouble, but I doubt that I made anyone choke with my speech. It _would_ be nice to see the Representative of Corto Maltese cry for a reason besides me yelling at him though…

The Secretary General seems to be smiling, which is rare for him, but I do little beyond return the warm look.

I feel as though I have done a good thing, and that is all the gratification I need. I just now hope that the other nations feel the same way…

The best way for me to lose my temper, after all, is to have the safety of the world hobbled by hubris and irrational ego…

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

I can hear my heels clacked against the polished floor as I quickly exited the chamber. Even an immortal Amazon like myself can find a room like that to be unbearably stuffy, and the blast of cool, filtered air lightly brushing against my skin is nothing short of wondrous. I taking a moment to soak up the open expanse of the buildings impressive halls and the brief moment of freedom I'm granted. That's when I noticed the lack of press swarming me with blinding cameras and failing note pads.

Hmm, I might have to grace the gods with a prayer of gratitude tonight…followed closely by a gift basket to everyone working security. They clearly decided to keep the press outside and away from the diplomats at work, most likely to prevent any international incidents from brewing while the representatives were under fire. A wise strategy considering what's potentially at stake right now. And how… _vexed_ politicians can get around the media…

Though it might just be because they secretly like me after all.

Hmm, if I wasn't so _nice_ of a person, I might even hope that it was _raining_ outside…Lucky for them, I _am_ a nice person.

As I turn a corner, something peculiar catches my attention. A handsome man in a well-tailored, dark suit leaned lazily against one of the halls many columns. He sported a grin that's both warmly genuine and infuriatingly sly, a trademark that he seemed hades-bent on patenting.

I'd think about slapping the look off of him if I wasn't happy to see him…

Not that I'd ever tell him that, of course…

"Mr. Wayne, I see you managed to slink by security."

"Paid them off." He responds lightly, "you'd better be careful; I own half the building now."

"And I'm sure there are more than a few government agents that would simply _love_ to hear you repeat those words into a wire…"

Closing the distance, I can feel my mind began to swim with potential reasons for him being there. Business…reinforcing his more promiscuous image…the _other_ type of business. With him, I'm never really sure. I was bred to expect any and all potential moves from enemies and allies alike, and yet he has this astonishing ability to keep me and everyone else around him off balance with his labyrinthine thoughts and multiple masks.

The fighter in me learned to greatly respect this ability, even to envy it…something up until my years with the JLA I can honestly say I wasn't even sure Amazons could do.

But my inner most self, the Diana that's buried in mounds of training and responsibility, finds it…intriguing, one of the many qualities of his that first peaked what I thought was a childish little interest in him all those years ago.

Purely professionally, I try to remind myself…

But his smile grows more and more genuine the closer I approached, the type of smile that I took great pride in being one of very few who, in Alfred's words, is considered _special_ enough to see it. _Special_ , he assures me, in a way that means I have his undying trust and respect.

For someone like Bruce, that means a lot.

With that thought, as I stood next to him, my arms crossed regally over her chest, I here and now decide that, maybe, he was just happy to see me.

"Enjoying New York so far? I'm sure the penthouse view is lovely." I ask warmly.

"I honestly much prefer to be on the streets, bustling with the people and the cars." He replies with a sincere grin, his hands jammed into the pockets of his suit pants. "Every now and again it's nice to remember my roots, even if they're a little… _grimier_ here. What about you? You must know this place inside and out by now."

"Afraid not, I tend to be where the action is. And right now…" I gesture at the swarm of suits and skirts exiting from the direction I just came, "that means being stuck in a stuffy room with some of the more _unpleasant_ people in the business."

"But it's important work." He adds with a smirk. "If anyone else tried to do what you do, it'd just be wasted breath and even more wasted words."

"You make me blush, Mr. Wayne." I swipe a strand of hair behind my ear. "It's not even noon and I already feel like I've gone seven rounds with the Roman Senate. It's nice to get a sincere compliment for a change."

"Well…" he rubs the back of his neck lightly, one of his more consistent nervous trademarks, "perhaps I should treat you to lunch then. See if that doesn't make the second half of your day more manageable."

I smile wildly. I can't help it. He's a man who has attempted to live his life in shadows and seclusion, and I find myself treasuring every moment of compassion I see. To myself or others. It happens more frequently than people give him credit for…but it's none the less something I long to see more of.

But…I can't sedate a twinge of curiosity deep within me…

"That sounds lovely…but I seem to recall some important _work_ that was occupying a lot of your time."

"Well…I _am_ dealing with a rather unusual conspiracy theorist of sorts at the moment."

I can feel my face darken slightly in harmony with his as we automatically shift closer to our patented _work mode_. I speak with a lower voice as I lean in closer, taking great care to make sure no one is privy to our increasingly private conversation. "And how is that going for you?"

"Infuriatingly. He takes paranoia to a whole new level." Bruce leans closer to my ear as his voice drops. "I haven't even found his safe house yet, and I _need_ to just to _start_ my investigation. This late night game of post-mortem _cat and mouse_ is starting to get on my nerves…"

"Hmmm, maybe now you know how the rest of us feel." I joked, lightly tapping him in the elbow. I can see a gleam return to his eyes as his face loses some of its intensity.

He did say I'm rubbing off on him slightly.

"My paranoia has saved our lives on more than one occasion."

"And turned Clark transparent…" I tease. Immediately I can feel myself grimace as every curse word in every language I know floods my thoughts. That was beyond stupid of me, referencing that incident. I can't even think of anything to say as I smack myself in the forehead. _Hard_. "That was…a low blow, wasn't it?"

Bruce, for his part, hardly seemed phased. In fact, he could only chuckle. "I don't know, is calling you a scantily clad mound of clay a _low blow_?"

I feel my smile return as relief floods my system. Perhaps I give our banter too little credit; after all, we do like to get under each-others skin.

We've got the egos to hold our own…

"That's a tad bit discriminatory, don't you think?" I returned his light chuckle with a playful smirk of my own.

"Nonsense; some of my best friends are made out of soil."

When I first met him, I thought all humour had been forcefully ripped from his very being. In a way, that's true. But I can see his persona lighten every time we meet, and when he uses his wit, I find it that it lightens my entire mood. In a sly, Oscar Wilde sort of way. I'm sure many people would find him overly offensive. Me? I just find it easy to play off of. A feeling I get with very few people outside of the island.

If I'm being honest with myself…even _on_ the island.

As our laughter dies down, I can feel a haze of awkwardness hangs over us both as we pondered our next actions in silence. I lightly rub the back of my neck and try to break the stillness.

"Not that I don't appreciate you being here Bruce…but, _why_ exactly are you here?"

Bruce shifts slightly from one foot to the other, unsure of how to respond. "Well I…" he pauses. I can see uncertainty again worming into his composure. "That was a lovely speech you gave. Did Aaron Sorkin write that for you?"

Cheater. I can see him try to worm out of this already. I know _exactly_ why he's here; he wants to talk. And yet the terror of the Gotham streets is too shy, or frightened, to actually initiate anything.

It's almost adorable.

Even more so when I tease him…

"All the break neck travelling you would have to do just to get here and you just want to insult my speechwriting ability?" I smile slyly.

"Maybe I just forgot that you can be _flowery_ sometimes, what with all the punching you do."

"I could recite sonnets that would make Titans cry _and_ knock their teeth out at the same time. It's called being a _warrior poet_."

"You'd think they'd try to channel the souls of long dead poets in retribution…or sooner run away…"

"Perhaps if I donned a rabbit costume and made _fierce_ growling from the shadows, they might. After all, animals are so very _scary_ , aren't they?"

"Trust me Princess; you're not _nearly_ crazy enough to pull that off."

We both laugh heartily; I'm convinced our back-and-forth could go on forever if we let it. In a way, it's a lot like sparring: each one of us trying to gain the upper hand on the other, throw our opponent off balance. It's as equal parts fun as it is cathartic. A little something that only _we_ can enjoy; a fiery intensity of warriors pitted against one another with sharp tongues instead of sharp swords.

I'm getting much better at reading him though…and I can't help but notice _something_ underneath that self-deprivation. Something _deeper_. Maybe it's just my weary mind playing tricks on me but…hmmm, another time.

"I guess I should say thank you. I don't know how you could have heard it though…"

"I bugged the Prime Minister of France while he was going in."

I don't think I do a very good job of hiding my shock…"Gods _Bruce,_ causing an international incident isn't even _remotely_ stealthy…"

"I doubt anyone will bother to look; when was the last time France was important in world affairs?"

"And how many ICBM's does the batcave have to play chicken with a nuclear power?"

"Give me a week and the answer could be double."

I can only shake my head in defeat as Bruce continues.

"You've already got several takers by the looks of it. Seems like Kirkpatrick throwing his weight behind it worked."

Right. _Him_.

"Yes…well I'm glad to hear that." I reply. I can tell that Bruce has noticed me rubbing the length of her arm, my gaze darting nervously to my side. I'm sure my brows are telegraphing not-so-subtle concern straight to a man who's survived this long on his uncanny ability to read people. He begins shifting back into _bat-mode_ as he steps closer to me, his voice dropping into the low growl.

"Everything alright Diana?"

No, it's not. I don't trust this Kirkpatrick. Something in my gut tells me to either take up my arms or run and hide everyone I know and love from his gaze. It's an uncomfortable feeling, this dread, this gaunt doubt gnawing away at my mind. For Bruce, this would be natural…

But not for me.

It's my nature to love and trust, and yet with no evidence beyond my own flawed emotions, I sense the devil in this man…

And I'm honestly _ashamed_ of myself that I do…

"Fine…" I can only reply, curtly at that. "I…I'm fine."

"No, something's got you worried. I know you well enough to see that."

"Just like I know _you_ well enough to know that you didn't come here just to compliment my speech." I try to put a bit of my playful bite back into my tone, to hopefully cover up the worry that Bruce need not concern himself with. At least…not yet. To my relief, he snorts quietly.

"Touché Princess…I…"

The clicking of expensive shoes against the floor draws both of our attention to a dark skinned woman rapidly approaching us. She wore a large grin behind a calm, beaming face, her hand extended forward towards me.

Her appearance seems nothing but friendly, even though I can immediately tell she's a political animal. I silently thank my gut for gleaming with warmth instead of mistrust.

"Princess Diana, I'm glad I ran into you!" she says excitedly. I take her hand with a solid grip and return the shake as her attention turned to the billionaire beside me. " _And_ Bruce Wayne? I must say I'm surprised, I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We've been to more than a few galas." I respond with a warm smile. "He can be an almost tolerable person on a good day." I can't help but smirk at him as he shakes the mystery woman's hand, his face as neutral as ever. With a mix of serious and his playboy act, an inward battle if I've ever seen one, Bruce directs a question towards her.

"It's nice to meet you as well, though I hate to say that I don't have the foggiest idea who you are…"

The woman looks shocked suddenly before her gaze drops to her dress suits chest pocket. She chuckles under her breath before looking back at us, slightly embarrassed.

Good, this woman oozes humility. Perhaps we should find a way to clone her and replace every politician in existence with her…

That was a tad dark, wasn't it Diana?

"Sorry, my pass must have fallen out somewhere. Name's Jessica Hill, I'm President Kirkpatrick's Secretary of Meta-Human Affairs. Just announced this morning. I was hoping to run into you after you delivered your speech since I was already in Manhattan."

"Well I'm flattered that you're taking the time out of your schedule to track me down, Secretary Hill." I reply, the gleam never leaving my face.

"In fairness, you're a pretty high profile individual, wasn't really that hard to find you. But I'm glad I did." She pulls a cloth from his pocket and wipes her glasses, her eyes still darting intently between Bruce and myself. Putting her cloth away and returning her glasses to the bridge of her nose, her attention shifted onto me again, seemingly ignoring the amused billionaire beside me. "I just wanted to reiterate that I and President Kirkpatrick are fully committed to working as closely as possible with the JLA in the future. And I wanted to make my thoughts known to you candidly. My son's grow up watching your JLA work for most of his life, and I know how much he looks up to you guys. Even the scary one."

I feel a smirk form as my eyes focus on the petulant scowl forming on Bruce's face.

Man-child indeed, I think as Secretary Hill continues.

"You won't find anyone in Washington more eager to work with you than I. So if you need anything, feel free to talk to me. You're not a part of the Department, but I'm more than happy to cut through some red tape for you if the job requires it.

"Sounds too good to be true." Bruce replies, somewhat coldly. My smile _immediately_ turns into a frown as I elbow him in the stomach.

If we weren't in a public place I'd more than likely throttle him. Hill, however, only laughs.

"Your billions make you cynical Mr. Wayne?"

"No, being mugged in my driveway did…"

By the gods Bruce! Are you _trying_ to make my job difficult! I don't go into your place of work and start insulting the Board of Governors!

Well…not _exactly_ …

Secretary Hill's laughter ceases as she stares at the stone cold face of Gotham's Prince. Clearing her throat, she turns back to me and bows her head slightly; hopefully oblivious of the mental curses I'm sending my _companion_ …

"Well I should get back to Washington. Have a pleasant day Princess Diana."

"Just call me Diana, and thank you." I reply, trying to cut through the now palpable tension. "Enjoy your flight."

She bristly walked past us, completely ignoring Bruce in the process, as she strides towards the buildings large exit. Bruce's eyes followed her as the doors closed behind.

"She seems nice…"

Oh don't you _dare_ …

"Do you always have to be so… _you_ around these people?" I ask with more than mild exasperation. Unexpectedly, Bruce's shoulders slouch sheepishly.

"Sorry…bit of a defense mechanism. I'm not much of a people person around paid suits…"

Another human moment. I should be getting used to him shedding away the years and pain and darkness…and yet every time he lets the _real_ Bruce Wayne out, I feel…I don't know. Pity's not the right word. Understanding maybe? It's something I can't really describe.

It both frightens and excites me. But above all, I find it hard to remain mad at him.

No small task considering…

My eyes wander slightly over the painted portraits lining the hall as I respond softly, my hand working its way to his shoulder with a squeeze. "I understand. I don't belittle skepticism nearly as much as I used to…it makes me… _uncomfortable_ , but…" her gaze returned to Bruce, slightly more playfully this time. "Still, you didn't have to make up a story about you being mugged to scare him off."

"Who says I made it up?"

"Really?"

"What?"

" _You_ were…someone mugged _you_ on _your_ own driveway?"

"Right in broad daylight too."

I notice a smile creep onto his lips again. "And I assume you… _dealt_ with him in kind then?"

"Nope. Alfred handled it _just_ fine."

"Oh gods…" I palm my forehead again while shaking my head in disbelief.

"It would have raised too many questions if Bruce beat up some mugger." He defended. "Besides, I had just bought a new suit…"

Still chuckling, I move my hands to my hips and stare with a bemused expression at the leering billionaire.

"I swear Bruce, you…"

Before I can finish, I'm interrupted by a buzzing noise emanating from my pocket. My phone, a demon of modern technology. Built only to raise my blood pressure and grate at my ear drums.

There are days where I wish I could incinerate the thing…if it didn't hold the future of Themyscira in its data chip… Holding up the touch screen though…I can't help but grin.

Several nations are looking to _negotiate_ about this new program…as the saying goes in Man's World…I'll be _damned_.

"Sorry, I need to head over to my office. You were right about the 'takers' though…" My face turns apologetic. "I really do wish I can take you up on your offer of lunch, it sounds exactly like what I need right now, but…"

"It's alright," Bruce interrupts, his hands raised, "I understand. I should probably get back to Gotham anyways; I am technically in the middle of an M & A meeting…"

"I'm flattered that you're missing out on that just to come see me, but won't Lucius kill you?"

He shrugs. "It's just a couple hundred million."

"Hmph, I wish I had enough money to use the words 'just' and 'one hundred million' in the same sentence."

"No you don't." Bruce smiles. "You're too good for that."

And yet another genuine human moment. At least three in one conversation. And he was being _nice_ too.

Mr. Wayne, you _are_ full of surprises…

"Hmm, I'd better leave on this high note before you degrade pottery any further. I'll see you later Bruce."

I turn on my heels and begin to walk towards the elevators. I suppose we _both_ get out of this conversation.

Still though…

Halfway to my destination, I crane my neck and call back towards Bruce, his hand in his pocket. "And don't worry, we _will_ talk soon…"

I can't fully see his expression, but my blessed hearing picks up his faint murmur as I disappear within the throngs of bustling diplomats.

"Looking forward to it, Princess."

…

…

…

 _ **President Backs 'JLA Hotline' Initiative: Promises increased cooperation with Heroes**_

 _By: Thomas Freidman_

 _New York Times_

 _The White House will fully embrace Princess Diana of Themyscira's newly re-proposed 'JLA Hotline' outreach, the President announced today._

 _First drafted several years ago, the initiative was torn apart by the Luthor administration and a feverishly anti-JLA bloc led by Russia and the People's Republic of China, citing political distrust on both sides. In the case of the Eastern Bloc, they felt the JLA representing a growing trend of 'American Imperialism', while the Luthor Administration maintained that the JLA represented an American-only resource, something that Superman and the like have spent the better part of a decade denying._

 _The new Kirkpatrick Administration has publically reversed course on this line of thinking, stating that the JLA is a global force for peace._

" _If the United States is truly going to be a beacon of hope and long-lasting peace for the world of today, then we can't let the grudges of yesterday bog down those who want to do good." He told reporters. "As of now, the United States fully welcomes any nation to open channels with the JLA, and to unite in the shared goal of building a better world."_

 _He also reiterated his campaign promise to "ease the load" on the Justice League by committing significant amounts of funding to social programs, while allowing the League to take priority call on situations that would otherwise require excessive force. The Department of Meta-Human Affairs has pledged to coordinate as much information as possible with the League, to better ensure what they refer to as a "positive outcome"._

" _The Department of Meta-Human Affairs is already broadly multi-discipline, so we understand how to tackle a problem from multiple angles." Secretary Jessica Hill, the newly appointed Cabinet member, stated today. "Though I understand the Department has a dubious reputation, I fully believe that we are both equally committed to the same, worth-while goals. I'll do everything in my power to work with the League and provide timely assistance and information to the proper authorities, be they JLA or otherwise."_

 _The move is popular with the public, with the President's approval rating jumping 5% overnight. Analyst's opinions are mixed: some like the Brookings Institute, praise the move as both cost effective and smart, as well as noting that it is a PR boon for the fledgling Administration. But others on both sides of the political spectrum worry about the potential political ramifications of a more involved Justice League._

" _You're asking gods to get their hands dirty," Dr. Stephanie Bryce, the Director of the Council on Foreign Relations told reporters, "no matter how long Wonder Woman has been in politics, I doubt the rest of the League has the experience or the tact to deal with some of the problems they'll encounter. Punches and kicks don't solve everything."_

 _No word yet from either Russia or China, however sources close to both governments believe that they will make no moves against any CIS nations or border countries from joining the new initiative._

…

…

…

"So the JLA's gone _global_ hmm?" mused Perry White, the Daily Planet's Editor in Chief.

"Not a bad article," Lois Lane stated as she threw her copy down onto Perry's desk, "considering how the "mustache of understanding" wrote it and all…"

"Agreed." Perry flicked off the embers of his cigar and swivelled around in his chair. "It's too bad no one at the _Planet_ wrote it."

"Sorry Perry," Clark crossed his arms over his chest, "we've just been busy over the past couple of days."

"I see. You don't have a policy against writing about the JLA now do you Mr. Kent?" Perry's eyes bore into the reporter's inquisitively, making Clark shift uncomfortably.

"Not at all. Just a wild schedule."

"Right, I guess I can forgive you." He flashed them a knowing look. "I got a lot of papers to edit, so why don't you two go out and do your jobs and let an old man rot in peace, hmm?"

Lois chuckled sarcastically. "Well your wife _did_ say to lay off the steaks…"

"Out…"

"We're moving Chief, we're moving…"

The door closed loudly as they stepped into the newsroom, a storm of paper and reporters flying up and down the stairs and ducking around desks. They approached their joined cubicles at nearly the same time as Jimmy Olsen as the clumsy red-head rushed passed a group of writers. His foot bashed against the edge of Lois's desk, sending him tumbling head over heels with a high-pitched _yelp_.

Clark quickly glanced around the office and, noticing that no one besides Lois was looking (with an amused look, he noted), he grabbed Jimmy's collar with a blur of motion, hauling him deftly to his feet. Jimmy could only look at him with a sheepish shrug.

"Jimmy, suing the Planet for personal injury isn't a great way to get a raise." Clark lectured sarcastically as he plopped into his seat. The young photojournalist gleamed at the elder reporter.

"Well gee-wiz Mr. Kent, thanks for the advice."

"You're thinking about suing the Planet now aren't you?" he questioned.

"What would give you that crazy idea?"

"Does it count if I break his legs for him?" piped up Lois.

"Down girl…"

"Alright alright, I'm going." Jimmy backtracked. "I've lived in this city long enough to know when my life is in danger."

Lois couldn't help from agitating him further. "Oh, so that was the _other_ Jimmy Olsen dangling off a seventy story skyscraper two days ago?"

Clark couldn't supress a snicker as he tried to look sympathetically at the now red-faced Jimmy. "I think you've lost the battle Jimmy. Not that you had much hope to start with…"

Jimmy grumbled as he glared at his tormentors. "Awfully cruel of you to gang up on a poor and defenseless kid like that. Someone ought to call social services or something."

Lois's smile grew even darker. "Ever hear the joke about how long it takes for them to get here?"

"I can't control my associate here, Jimmy." Clark noted as he crossed his arms behind his back. "She's giving you a mercy by letting you go, I'd take your cards and run."

"Thanks for the support hubby."

Jimmy snorted as he backed away from the smiling duo. "Alright I'm leaving before you do something really terrible to me, like start making out…"

"Well…I _am_ wearing a low cut top…" Lois purred.

"Down girl…"

With speed that would rival the Flash, Jimmy took off down the catacombs of desks, bumbling and bumping into traffic along the way. Lois and Clark flashed each other a satisfied grin as they sank back into their chairs.

As the clicking of typing keys began to emanate from their keyboards, Lois called over their divider at her husband.

"So what's your opinion of our new President, Smallville? You know, as an _insider_."

"Haven't met him yet." He replied. "Though that should change in a few days. Diana's busy setting up logistics right now."

"Alright. And as a reporter?"

Clark stopped typing as he stroked his chin, his mind contemplating all that he had seen of the young politician since he first arrived on the scene several months ago.

"I think he's a politician through and through, for good or for ill." He responded eventually. "He's not Lex Luthor, thank god for that. But I don't expect him to follow through on most of what he promises." He paused as he pushed himself back from his table.

"Though reaching out to us like he did is…unexpected. Not even Bruce or Diana saw that one coming and they're usually on the up and up about things like this."

He stood from his chair and leaned over the divider, staring down warmly at his wife. "And what are all your Pulitzer Prizes telling you?"

"That he's a wimp." She snorted. "Spineless, timid, trying to push back against the big ol' scary winds of change. Using a super powered crutch…no offense…Just like any member of an organized party."

"He's not a member of an organized party, he's a Democrat."

"You getting your funnies from _Mallard Fillmore_ or something?"

"God no!" Clark gagged. "I'd sooner douse myself in gasoline."

"That wouldn't exactly do anything, you know?"

"Yeah but…it's the thought that counts."

Lois returned Clark's stare with an inquisitive glance. "I'm pretty sure that sentence was not designed for that context."

"Well oh _drat_. Looks like I broke the rules." Clark mused sarcastically, sinking back into his chair. "I guess I'm not much of a boy-scout after all…"

Suddenly, Clark flinched, gripping the divider tightly in his fist. Lois noticed immediately, her years being at the Man of Steel's side honing her sense.

She knew almost instinctively when the famous red, gold and blue was going to emerge.

"What do you hear?"

"It's muddled, but…"

A thunderous crack ripped through the streets, as glasses weaved and shattered around them. A cacophony of screams and sirens burst the air around them as frightened Daily Planet staff darted for cover.

Except for the couple standing in the middle of the newsroom.

"Nope, it's pretty clear now…" Clark mused. "Parasite. Looks like he's on a hunger rampage again." He rose attentively to his feet and walked slowly around the other side of the divider, giving Lois a quick peck on the cheek. "You know, there _is_ a monster attacking the city right now…"

"I'm aware…"

"So you should probably get to safety."

She continued to type furiously on her keyboard. "Yeah one second; I just came up with a really good analogy."

Clark sighed as he reached for his shirt buttons. "Fine. But you've been on a really good streak lately; I'd hate to break it…"

The typing only intensified. "Don't worry, I've got a massive life insurance policy. You'll still be able to eat if something goes wrong."

"That doesn't make me feel any better…"

"Just go and do your _up, up and away_ think honey."

"Going, going…"

With blinding speed he dashed towards the now shattered window and leapt into the streets, his clothes being quickly torn from his body. The now airborne Clark Kent continued to nose dive towards the concrete, only to pull up at the least minute in a blur of red, blue and gold.

He cut through the billowing smoke as frightened onlookers pointed to the sky…and rejoiced.

Superman was here to save the day…

…

 _Superman_

…

I never like the prospect of fighting, physically or otherwise. But there are certain enemies I _really_ dislike fighting, for one reason or another.

Parasite is _exactly_ one of those enemies, and as for the reasons…well it should be fairly obvious at this point.

My x-ray vision locks onto him even before I leap from the Daily Planet Building, scanning the area around him unfailingly as I fall. He's mere blocks away, far too close to Lois and Perry and Jimmy for my liking. By the time I'm fully airborne and into my costume, I have a complete read-out of every innocent bystander possibly within his reach, and any injuries they might have.

They're my top priority. _Always_.

I'd be the first to admit that I don't approach a battle with the same tactical foresight as Bruce, or the skill and intensity of Diana. That's because I'm not a warrior, or a tactician.

I'm a guardian. I dedicate _every_ single fibre of my being to getting the innocents and the injured away from the fighting, however long that might take me, no matter what tactical disadvantage that might put me in.

And when I'm sure everyone is safe, then I move in to deal with the monsters. But even then, my number one priority is containment.

I can take any hit these guys throw at me; even gods like Darkseid have to put everything they've got behind their punches to even get me to _flinch_. That means, if I'm on my own, I have the time to lure whoever's deciding to ransack my planet out into open plains or empty deserts, away from anyone who could ever be hurt, even in the slightest.

Anything less from someone with my power wouldn't just be irresponsible. I've seen what super powered arrogance and a disregard for human life leads too: the _Elite_. Being good or evil is far more nuanced than what a lot of people think…but being _destructive_ …that's pretty easy to see.

With a blur of colour, a sweep through the streets, picking up everyone in Parasite's warpath as gently as I can. Without them even being fully aware of it, they find themselves several blocks away from the madness, hopefully unharmed. Those that aren't are placed next to hospitals and ambulances; I'd leave a note detailing their injuries…but of course I seem to have forgotten a _pen_.

I counted 10,333 civilians in possible danger, using a fairly safe estimate of where he could strike. All 10,333 civilians soon find themselves scattered throughout the undamaged parts of Metropolis. Only 100 or so are injured, none of them severely.

It takes me slightly less than a minute.

And in that minute, Parasite is robbed of five meals. He knows it's me, that I've finally come out to face him. He shouts into the empty streets as I deposit the last civilian with his family, his monstrous cry echoing through my mind.

" _C'mon Blue Boy, I'm right HERE! And I'm HUNGRY! I tingle in anticipation of draining. You. DRY."_

At this point, I would take the villain as far out of the city as I could; assuming that I wasn't otherwise distracted or evenly matched. Oceans are a popular location, as is the atmosphere if I figure I can just disable whoever I'm facing.

Other's…won't go down so easily. And I'm forced to fight them in the forest of skyscrapers of the city I love.

I'm not always strong enough…a fact that's bot humbling and distressing to me. I always remember to thank Lois for showing me that sometimes, that's alright. So long as you know how to bounce back.

Parasite can absorb my energy if I let him touch me, and judging by his appearance, he's getting even more monstrous with every passing day. He's less a humanoid tragedy than he is a mass of shifting and glowing purple. If Bruce's stories of Killer Croc and his similar dehumanization, this means that he's likely even more dangerous.

So I have to hit him fast. And _hard_.

I have to limit my speed reduce any shock wave I create. But thanks to Luthor's architectural standards, oddly enough, I'm given a little….. _breathing_ room.

I hit Parasite at just over Mach 1. Enough to warp and rattle the window's around us. And enough to send him flying into a construction site a few blocks ahead.

I'll have to talk to Bruce about getting a loan…

He roars at me, not with words but with pure animalistic rage. While he's venting, I swoop around the side of the building next to him…

…and plow into him again. This time with a vicious uppercut.

Using my super speed, I'm able to get in front of his flailing form with just enough time to see a large, empty park out in the distance. As much as I hate to potentially destroy a child's favorite playground…its preferable to destroying a child's home.

He hits my fist with still seething rage emanating from every pore of his deformed body. I can feel the sting of his leeching abilities on my fist. But in an instant he's gone, plowing through the air head first towards the ground. With a thunderous crash, he burrows into the park, sending a massive cloud of dust and dirt into the air.

I can see him still worming around from the air, so I approach. Cautiously…hoping not to be caught off guard like the last time we fought.

I wouldn't be much of a farm boy if I didn't learn my lesson after all…

Before I can even touch the ground, he lunges, nothing but incoherent vitriol streaming from his mouth like saliva. Instinctively I shift out of the way, feeling a light scratch on my cheek has he connects with a glancing swipe. Nothing major…but I did feel it.

He's raving madly now, most likely he's completely overtaken by his hunger. Instead of attacking me, I can see him sniffing the air, trying to find an easier prey. Before I can reach out towards him, he takes to the air, bounding like a possessed demon towards the centre of downtown…with speeds I never thought he was able to reach…

To _Lois_ …dammit! I _know_ she's still there, I can _feel_ it! And even if it's not her… _someone_ is there…

I leap after him, desperately trying to grab a hold of his purple form, sacrifice myself so he's occupied long enough for her to escape. But he's got too much of a head start, and if I pick up my speed I'll flattened the entire area and anyone possible still in it. I can't remember whether I evacuated this neighborhood…whether I _needed_ to at the start.

His path of destruction sends waves through the glass, but they don't shatter. No buildings are leveled as he passes. His maximum speed is either just below the level required to cause _real_ damage…

Or he's taunting me. Somewhere in that insane and mutilated form he's forcing me to either sacrifice the women who everyone with a television set knows I'm _close_ with…or potentially thousands of innocents who picked the wrong day to head into downtown…

I can't risk it; it's the cold calculus of the battles I loath to fight…

 _Dammit_ Clark, think of _something_!

The wind slaps violently at my face, not that I can feel it. All I can see is the massive globe of the Daily Planet approaching rapidly. I grow desperate, increasing my speed slightly. Glass shatters around me, raining down on emergency personal and injured civilians a like. I can't go any faster; I can't be responsible for their deaths…

But I can't be responsible for _her_ death either…

I almost feel like screaming out at him, one last desperate attempt at getting him to turn around and face me. Any and all tactics are out the window now. He's barrelling towards the building, with my X-Ray vision I can see Lois huddled on the bottom floor next to Perry and a frightened security guard.

God…even if he shoots right by her, the energy he's cackling with…the wind he's generating…

We'll be there in seconds, Lois could be _dead_ in mere seconds…and for all my power in the world, I can't even get my fingertips close to him…not without unforgivable losses…

Suddenly, he's in cased in a glowing green ball, stopping him dead in his tracks. I have to nearly defy the laws of momentum to prevent myself from following suit and crashing into the construct.

All of my worry, all of my stress, completely melts away…as I graciously look above me, and stare into the eyes of a friend…

Gratefully…

…

…

…

"Hey big guy. Local wildlife giving you problems again?" Kyle Rayner asked with a smirk. He tried to keep his grimace to a minimum as he fought against the raging purple people eater encased in his ring's construct.

"Kyle? You have impeccable timing!" Superman exclaimed, desperately attempting to regain control of his frayed emotions.

"Well I _do_ live here you know? This weird fellow knocked out all the windows at the office, nearly made my mess up Spidey's face. I figured I deserved a little vengeance once I figured out what was going on."

Superman chuckled, his eased demeanor returning ever so slightly. "Whatever the reason, _thank you_. We could have had a real incident on our hands otherwise."

"No problem Supe. Just…I might need you to tell that to Joe while you're throwing around praise. He's been up my you-know-what about deadlines…"

"I'll be sure to do that." Superman glanced downward at the spinning ball of purple that was Parasite, noticing the increasing strain on Kyle's face. "You know the way to Riker's right?"

"No I just figured I'd toss him into the air an eye ball it." Kyle replied sarcastically.

"Good to hear. I'll meet up with you in a second; I just need to go become a widow…" Kyle choose to ignore the darkening tone as he took to the sky with Parasite, the former man finally finding the ability to form moderately coherent words…

" _Eat you Superman! I EAT YOU!"_

"Calm down there Hannibal, you'll just make this ride miserable for _both_ of us…" Kyle lightly shook the glowing ball as he shouted downwards.

Superman meanwhile touched down lightly onto the cracked pavement, just as Lois came bolting out of the Planet offices. She wore a wide grin, clearly unaware of the disaster that was only _barely_ adverted…

Clark couldn't keep a mad face though… no matter how hard he tried…

As Lois had said, he wasn't always strong enough. And that was ok.

"See? I told you I'd be fine! Absolutely nothing…"

Without fully being aware of it, she found herself enveloped in Superman's arms and pushed backwards slightly. At first she thought he was just overly excited to see her…

…but then she saw the rather large chunk of the Daily Planet Building jutting out of the pavement where she had been standing. She huffed under her breath.

"Damn this cruel earth that I'm forced to live on…"

"It can't be _all_ bad if I'm on it, right?" Superman's powerful arms squeezed her tighter as his eyes closed. She knew him well enough to know when he was upset, when he had just been stretched to his emotional limit…

This was when the Superman took a backseat to his girlfriend…..

Lois chuckled lightly before burrowing her face into Superman's arms, stroking his chin lightly with her hand. "No, I suppose not. And _don't_ you ever forget about it." She looked up at him inquisitively. "He was heading in this direction, wasn't he?"

"He was practically already here by the time Kyle showed up."

"But you got to me just fine."

"Lois I…"

"Superman…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, " _Clark_ …please, I'm alright. Whatever could have happened, _didn't_. And now we know. Now you and I can learn from this and we'll make sure it never happens again."

"I…"

"Clark…no matter how much the universe likes to try to convince you otherwise…you're only _human_. A human with a huge heart you just so happens to possess the power to do amazing things. And today, you did what you always do. Just try to focus on that, alright?"

Their eyes met again. "For me?"

"Alright I…you're right Lois." Clark sighed, his posture straightening again.

"As always…" she joked, burying her face into his chest again. She snorted slightly as a thought crossed her mind.

"Hmph, the Planet really is a target for all of god's rejects, isn't it? We should just move…"

"And who would ever deserve being sent to replace us?" He asked as he nestled closer to her.

"I can think of a couple of banks…" Lois joked with a smirk. Clark could only laugh in response as he squeezed his wife tighter, enjoying every second of her warm and comforting embrace.

…

…

…

 _ **Quracian Desert:**_

A plain, rusty jeep bounded over the sprawling dunes as the stars twinkled in the humid night sky, clouds of dust kicking up behind the large wheels. The cones of light shooting out from the vehicle's front illuminated nothing but dry and dreary sand, a sight that had remained uninterrupted for what seemed to the driver to be endless hours. Civilization was a long lost thought for the solitary man, his shrouded face still being whipped by the strains grains that flung themselves over the windshield.

He didn't dwell long on his surroundings, however, as his task was far, _far_ too important to have his mind stray. He'd invoke hellish amounts of punishment if he so much as spoiled a single aspect of the plan laid ahead of him.

He was not an irrational man. No, he was fully content to remain in the good graces of whoever lurked in the shadows and guided him with unseen hands. The voices that talked to him over the phones and telegraphs and whatever means of communication they decided to use in their wisdom were perfect. Infallible. He wouldn't dare tread wrongly on the path.

Not that it would matter. He had been gifted with the training to succeed at anything. Against _anyone_ , no matter their skill, resources…

Or _gimmicks_ …

The piercing light from his headlights finally passed over an inkling of civilization. A set of decaying stone huts jutted out of the dunes. A small ancient village preserved through careful restoration, completely ordinary in their appearance and stature…

Save for the congregation of bearded men standing in between then.

He could see their weapons from his rapidly closing location. More than likely…that was intentional.

Good, they would be stupid to trust him so openly…

The jeep ground to a groaning halt in front of the group, drawing their attention, and weapons towards him. He stepped out of the jeep, the tattered cloths he wrapped around himself blowing in the warm desert breeze.

He approached them confidently, his hands clearly placed at his sides and bereft of any weapons. That seemed to relax the men somewhat.

"[I am the contact you were informed of.]" he spoke in Arabic. The eldest of the men before him, carrying the swagger of a leader, smirked under his bristling beard.

"[I'm impressed you learned out language.]"

"[What makes you think I speak anything else?]"

Another smirk from the man. "[Intuition, but I will not pry further. In this regard anyways.]"

"[You worry about my motives?]"

The group shook their heads in unison. The tensed slightly as he reached into his cloths, though his eyes never left the group. He removed a small remote and pressed its button. With an echoing click, the rear of the jeep opened. He gestured towards the trunk.

"[There is more than enough money in there to silence most men's worries. Is that not enough?]"

"[No.]" The man replied. "[We seek to remove a government that has been propped up far too long by powers beyond our control. We will only proceed if success is guaranteed. And I know you types well enough to guess that _success_ is the _last_ think you can guarantee…]"

He stared through his darkened goggles at the man in silence. The group looked at him like he had been defeated, humbled in front of his contacts…

How unwise it would be to underestimate him…

"[If this government has been propped up as you say, then you can't honestly expect to deal with them _completely_ with mere AK's, can you?]"

"[I suppose not.]"

"[If you support us, I can personally guarantee that you will be the catalyst to something _far_ greater than even your noble cause can _hope_ to understand. But even still… _any_ and all interference from outside your hallowed borders will be crushed. _Before_ they even get the chance to look in your direction.]"

The group shuffled in the sand, contemplating the confidence of the man in front of them. After a still second, the leader stepped closer to the mysterious contact.

"[And why should we believe you, that you can provide what you promise?]"

"[You don't have to; no matter what, you're getting enough money to plan and execute your operation for decades to come. But…]" he closed the remaining distance himself, his nose nearly level with his contact's own, "[If you _do_ decide to believe me, know that you will be saved from the coming fire, and uplifted to a far greater stature than the mere _freedom fighters_ you seek to become. And considering how we were not only able to track you down, but deliver this much money, unmolested, deep into a country famous for its air tight borders, perhaps it would be wise to give us the benefit of the doubt. You have nothing to lose, after all, except the chance of a lifetime. _Your_ lives, specifically.]"

Again they stood in silence, taken aback slightly by his bravado and conviction. Speaking for the entire group, who all nodded in silence, the leader answered.

"[You've made your case.]"

"[Excellent,]" he responded. Reaching back into his shrouds, he removed another small device. It flashed with neon blue and green as he handed it to the bearded leader. "[Take this, and the money, and plan. Prepare. Wait for our signal. And when it comes, and it will come _soon_ , you'll do exactly as we say…and a higher existence will be yours to enjoy.]"

He didn't wait for a response; instead he took off for the jeep. Heaving the trunk of money onto the sand, he entered the jeep, revved the engine, and took off in a swirl of dust.

As the small collection of ancient huts disappeared from his rear view mirror, he reached for the radio and began fishing for the appropriate secure channel…an released the safety on the advanced weapon given to him...

* * *

 **I'll address this right away: yes, in my new universe that takes place post JLA #75, Kyle Rayner is in fact the artist on "Amazing Spider-Man". Why? Well I wasn't going to give him a C-Lister like Howard the Duck was I?**

 **Oh yeah and Kyle Rayner's civilian identity is a comic book artist, which is one reason why I really like him as a Lantern. It's like if someone gave Jack Kirby a Lantern ring...sweet Jesus I'd love to see an Elseworld's story about that. He could friggin blast out a Darkseid construct to...ok losing focus now reign it in man...**

 **I should also clear some stuff up for people who aren't familiar with the comics: Lois and Clark have been married for I think close to two decades at this point (I could be off by a bit, but either way it was great), and yes of course she knows his secret identity. It's hinted that Perry knows as well, but I think Jimmy's still in the dark because he's kind of a useless character. Ok, "kind of" is probably being a little too generous...**

 **Also, the joke about Clark being transparent comes from the "Tower of Babel" arc (which was the inspiration for "Justice League: Doom" if that's how you were introduced to the idea). In the comic, instead of a Kryptonite bullet, Batman (would) expose him to a synthetic Kryptonite that turned his skin transparent (which is a really good way to freak a dude out). So...that's where the joke comes from.**

 **I also have no idea how Parasite talked during that era, so I just went with the one from Grant Morrison's "All-Star Superman" book (the GOOD All-Star comic).**

 **And...yeah, that's about it. Hope you all enjoyed and stay tuned for more mystery and action and even some other stuff (that I'm not allowed to talk about here).**


	5. Chapter 4: London Calling

**Well I'm back from kicking over the hornets nest that is the SM/WW community (not on purpose mind you, but...well I perhaps should have seen that coming in the long run. Meh.), here to bring you another installment to the ongoing murder mystery/political thriller/hey look there's words on the page, known as "Identify Cr-**

 **Wait wait, no, wrong thing. I mean...I really hope to god you don't compare this to Identity Crisis, that would break my heart.**

 **Anywho, thank you all for the reviews and support and the like, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! And as always:**

 **DC owns all this stuff, and has for many many, MANY years. They'll probably continue to do so, as that's how IP Law works. Rejoice in the world that is capitalistic interpretations or property!**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 _ **"London Calling"**_

" _I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich)….."_

…

 _Batman_

…

 _ **The Batcave:**_

I've been told by more than a few people that I'm excessively paranoid, but the Question takes… _took_ it to a completely different level. It's understandable, given his personality; a loner with deep seated reservations against power and influence. Bit of a crazy streak, and his refusal to see between the lines hampered an otherwise formidable intellect, but all together he was a competent investigator in his own right.

When I was first starting out, he was one of the very few people that I felt I could trust. His natural skepticism and inclination towards a solitary life meant that, more than likely, he would keep to himself. Fly under the radar, avoid attention at all costs, view the world with a cautious, cynical eye…

The more I think about it, the more it feels like a stinging indictment against _my_ personality. Especially considering who I implicitly trust now…

Maybe with age comes wisdom. Or maybe I'm becoming soft. Or maybe I'll finally accept the logical answer and realize what a profound effect she's having on me…

Right now though, it doesn't matter. The investigation on the other hand, very much does. And the vey paranoia that I once found a dark camaraderie in is now grating away at my nerves.

I've been to eight different safe houses now, eight concealed, off the grid locations where Vic would store his volumes of information and samples and tangled threads of wire…eight locations…

And not so much as a fuzzy image anywhere…There's no way to know if Vic went through and cleaned out any traces of his investigation before he was killed, though if he knew he was being hunted, it's possible. The problem is that I'm not _sure_ he knew, which means it's equally likely that whoever killed him, has been getting to these places first.

I don't like being three steps behind. I've survived this long by doing the opposite, by making my opponents guess my moves while I dissect them from afar.

The only solace I have is that the killers most likely are only just _now_ assuming that I'm on the case. Meaning that they'll have to adjust their tactics to account for a new set of eyes. Of course, they could have assumed this from the beginning…or even _planned_ such a scenario.

I can feel a cold shiver ripple down my spine at the very thought.

I _am_ paranoid, but from my position amongst the shadows and the festering filth, I have to be. I have to prepare for the worst case scenarios in the event that my worst nightmares start to come true. At the very least, it leaves _someone_ to beat back the demons…

That thought gets less and less pleasant the more I think about it…

I try to shake away the creeping disillusionment that gnaws at the back of my mind and turn my attention back to the blinking monitors of my computer, each screen filled with snap shots of Question's previous investigations. I know the locations of his last few safe houses; I _could_ quite easily tear each one apart before morning. Knowing how quickly any evidence seems to be disappearing, I probably _should_.

But something seems off. Not in the case per sae, but in Vic's behaviour.

For all his trust issues, if he ever felt that a situation was about to get out of hand, he'd contact us. And I can't think of a situation more dire than one where his head was in the crosshairs of an assassin. Either he didn't know…

Or he purposefully chose to leave the JLA in the dark. But why? Did he not trust us? Or did he think we were targets?

For every second I pour over the limited data I have, about a dozen questions materialize out of the aether. It's no different than any other investigation I've been a part of…

But those investigations almost never involved a superhero. Those that did…it was pretty clear who pulled the trigger. They _wanted_ to be known, be feared. The wrath of the law was a small price to pay for the publicity of taking down one of the modern myths made flesh.

This was all happening in the shadows. And being someone who lives in shrouded darkness, who knows first hand of the inherent maliciousness of the dark…that can only spell trouble.

The echo of fine tailored shoes pierces the veil of my thoughts. A slight tremor in his arm betrays the clanking trays in his hands. The slight rumble in my gut betrays my obstinate indifference.

God, it must be getting late…no one with half an understanding of the English language would use those two words together…

I swivel in my chair as Alfred ascends the platform, his face stoic as ever.

"I warn you that I've adequately prepared myself to do battle, Master Bruce. I'm not leaving until at least half of this tray is gone."

I give a reserved sigh as I peel back my cowl. "For once, I think I'll actually listen to my body."

His face twitches slightly, enough for me to see a minute flash of surprise.

"I'll be sure to inform the Church that Christ yet again walks among us."

"No miracle, Alfred." I correct. "The opposite, actually."

"I'm sure you'll unravel the threads eventually." He gives me a reassuring look as he places the tray next to me, the aroma of steaming clam chowder filling my nostrils. "After all, it would hardly be much of a mystery if you figured it out so soon."

"I _am_ the World's Greatest Detective." I reply with a smirk, picking up a spoon full of soup.

"And yet it took Mr. Holmes over one hundred and fifty pages to find the secrets of the Baskervilles."

I smirk at him. "If this case ends up involving supernatural dogs, I'll be sure to blame you, Alfred."

"If you must sir, but don't expect me to haul you out of the bog then."

Unfazed, still completely regal. Alfred remains to be the most unflappable person I know. I like to think that some of his stoic personality has rubbed off on me…but I can't help but notice that despite his undaunted form, he gives off nothing but warmth.

Something I very consciously attempt to reject…

"Might I inquire of the progress you've made thus far?" he asks, staring past me at the still blinking screens.

"Little, if any…" I reply. "Question was meticulous in his note taking, but I haven't been able to recover a single scrap from his safe houses."

"Perhaps he stashed it under his mattress, then?"

"Hilarious Alfred." I deadpan, feigning a slight amount of annoyance. "In theory, I should have enough time to sweep the rest of his more common retreats but…"

I'm cut off by a blaring alarm emanating from the computer, the flashing words _PRIORITY CALL_ bathing the darkened cave in light. Alfred coughs slightly as he grimaces at the noise.

"Trying to wake the dead, are we?"

"It's the outreach initiative." I respond neutrally, pulling my cowl back over my face. "Level Five threat." I type a command into the keyboard of the computer, the alarm giving way to a tactical layout of the cave.

"Computer: prep Bat-wing. Heavy ordinance."

" _Acknowledged. Preparing Bat-Wing for heavy combat scenario."_

I can see Alfred glance at the platter out of the corner of my eye, his face sinking only slightly. He sighs.

"I suppose I should be thankful that you managed at least three bites…"

"That's all I needed Alfred."

He scoffs. "Why does your quest for justice never include your numerous crimes against the culinary arts?"

I manage a small smile as I bound down the platform, heading for the rising form of the Bat-Wing. Before I slide into the cockpit, I call back to my faithful guardian as he stands watch over the discarded tray.

"Sacrifices have to be made. Besides, food doesn't fight back nearly enough for my tastes."

"If that's a protracted way of saying to add more seasoning, I would suggest going for the more direct approach next time, sir."

The canopy slides shut as the engines roar to life, drowning out any other sounds around me. Within seconds, I'm accelerating through the tunnel and into the crisp night sky, my destination already locked into the onboard computer. I tap the communicator in my cowl, activating my comm-link within it…

"Batman to Justice League; I'm on route…"

…

…

…

 _ **The Watchtower, the Moon:**_

 _ **Several Minutes Earlier…**_

An entourage of black suits snaked behind the trio walking ahead of them, their eyes constantly darting back and forth over the metallic halls behind their thick shades. Superman couldn't help but glance backwards in their direction from time to time, inwardly sighing at the all too familiar paranoia.

To his right, President Kirkpatrick trudged along merely, soaking up the sights of the Watchtower with great gusto. Wonder Woman took up his left flank, her expression unreadable.

That puzzled Clark…she was usually more of an open book than this.

"Mind if I ask how much all of this cost?" The President piped up, his eyes shifting between the two heroes beside him.

"I honestly don't like to think about it." Superman laughed. Diana remained overly stoic as she responded.

"We have multiple funding avenues available to us. I believe government grants are a small portion of it, but otherwise we remain privately funded."

"Saved a lot of billionaires in the past?" he asked with a light chuckle. Superman flinched slightly before Diana calmly responded.

"A few. Bruce Wayne was converted to our side not too long ago, and in pittance he pledged to support our endeavours."

"Isn't he a bit of a sleaze ball? I mean I realize that as a politician I couldn't be calling the kettle a darker shade of black if I tried but…"

"He has his moments." She interrupted, a discrete smile forming in the corner of her mouth.

Seemingly satisfied, Kirkpatrick continued to glance around at his surroundings, taking in the alien sights with child-like wonder. They continued to trudge ahead in silence, an army of black suits following them intently.

Superman glanced over at Diana and couldn't help a confused look from forming on his ever readable face. For as long as he had known her, she carried herself with a certain gentle authority, a type of regal confidence that almost belittled the need for words.

Now, however, she seemed withdrawn and uncomfortable, a very unusual sight considering her experience with the politics of gods and mortals alike. Something was eating away at her, that much was clear, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

"Everything alright Diana?" he asked with a low whisper, aiming to keep the conversation as private as possible.

"Yes." She replied curtly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well for one thing, you look like you don't want to be here. You and O'Brian didn't switch bodies are something, did you?"

The look she flashed him clearly telegraphed that his attempt at humour had failed rather spectacularly…

"I'm fine Superman, really. Perhaps I'm just tired."

Clark sighed as he mentally berated himself for approaching the subject unprepared. To the world at large, he and Wonder Woman were viewed as being almost completely alike in every aspect, and admittedly they _did_ share quite a few similarities.

However the more Clark thought about it, the more he realized that Diana and Bruce were probably more alike than anyone else on the team, as odd as that might seem based solely on first impressions. Her unfailing stubbornness and reluctance to discuss any uncomfortable feelings were perhaps the most prevalent examples he could think of…

And he never was good at talking to Bruce when he was like this either…

He'd have to try a different approach, though deep down he didn't expect any better of an outcome.

"You know that if there's anything bothering you, I'm always willing to listen."

"I know Superman," she replied, a tinge of warmth returning to her voice, "but there's nothing that needs to be discussed, not right now." She glanced back at the gawking President, her face again becoming hard. "We have more important things to deal with at the moment…"

He sighed in resignation as he dropped the subject, making a mental note to talk to Lois about breaking through the eighty foot thick walls of stubborn that surrounded his two best friends. If anyone could do it after all…

"How many floors are in this main tower?" President Kirkpatrick asked, snapping both heroes out of their private stupor. He was glancing at a spiralling staircase to his left, both ends stretching into the depths of the tower.

"Thirty Eight by my count." Superman replied.

"There's forty one." Diana interjected, her brow raised slightly.

"I'm pretty sure there's only thirty eight."

"The southeast quadrant is still above the lunar surface, you need to count those floors as well."

"That still doesn't equal forty one though…"

"Yes it does…"

The President's hands flailed wildly between the two heroes, a look of concern flashing across his face. "Woah there guys, I didn't mean to start a re-enactment of the Berlin Blockade here."

"It's alright Mr. President," Superman stated in a reassuring tone, his eyes still trained on a smirking Diana, "I was just about to give up."

" _Idem semper_." Wonder Woman teased. Glancing back at the befuddled President, she quietly turned to Clark; her smirk fully vanished from her lips. "Since I've already met our distinguished guest, why don't I leave you two alone?"

"Are you sure?" Superman asked.

"I can almost sense that he and I are going to be speaking politics far more than either of us are prepared for in the coming months," her eyes trained back to the politician, straining to remain soft, "I wouldn't want us to get tired of one another so soon…"

"Alright, I can take the tour from here then." Superman nodded. He quickly flashed her a _we'll talk later_ look, only to have it shot down by a doubly intense _no we won't_ response from her. They waited for the clacking on her boots to disappear as she rounded the nearest corner before President Kirkpatrick broke the nearly palpable silence.

"Why are you people here, exactly?" he directed his question to the secret service agents behind him. The nearest one, a blonde, responded with a bemused look.

"…we're here to protect you, sir."

"In the JLA's Moon base? With…you know…almost the entire aforementioned team present and accounted for?"

"They could go rogue, sir."

Both Superman and Kirkpatrick looked more than a little shocked at the level of paranoia saved only for those who prowl the shadowy streets, though the President recovered almost immediately. "Are you Batman?"

"No, sir." The blonde responded.

"Then you're pretty much useless and pointless in any scenario aren't you?"

Superman's shock only increased as the blonde agent struggled to form a response.

"I-I…We…"

"Relax Agent Tresser, I'm just grinding your gears." The President laughed. He roughly patted Superman, who still hadn't shaken off the surprise from his Kansas-bred face, on the shoulder. "Look, why don't you give me and the Man of Steel a little bit of private time? I doubt anything will happen."

Agent Tresser paused for a moment before releasing a sigh. "We serve at the pleasure of the President." The agents leaned themselves against the nearest wall as Superman and the President continued forward, the Commander in Chief now fully ignoring his security detail and focusing on the Kryptonian next to him. He turned to the Man of Steel, his voice lower, more contemplative than before.

"I get the feeling that Wonder Woman isn't exactly my biggest fan…"

"She likes _everyone_ Mr. President. Ill-will really isn't her thing."

"There's always an exception…"

"What makes you say that?" Superman asked, mildly surprised at the relative bluntness of the statement.

"Call it a hunch, perhaps. I've seen the way she acts around other Heads of State. It's quite a bit different than the treatment I just got."

"That's very astute of you. Most politicians we meet just assume everyone in the League except Batman is a cardboard copy of each other."

Kirkpatrick chuckled lightly. "I'd be more of a nuisance than anything else if I was proudly ignorant…"

He stopped in his tracks, placing both hands in his pockets. Superman halted his pace as well, shifting around to face the now stationary President. Kirkpatrick's gaze was directed out the viewing window that stretched before him, the pale blue seas of earth creeping over the still dunes of the moon. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, as he turned back towards the anxiously waiting Superman.

"You doubt yourself sometimes, right Superman?"

Clark was taken aback. Never in his entire life had he ever expected someone outside his close circle of friends and family to ask him that, let alone the leader of the most powerful nation on earth. He honestly wasn't sure how to respond, forced instead to wade the bubbling tide of nervous thoughts that rummaged in his mind. He finally managed to spit out an answer after he composed himself to acceptable levels.

"Of course Mr. President. I don't know of anyone with half a brain who _hasn't_."

"Heh, that makes me feel better." The President responded, again staring back out into the peaceful lunar surface. "What we're trying to do here…it's a _good_ thing, right? I mean, don't get me wrong I respect Wonder Woman and everything she's done and _wants_ to have done immensely but…"

"I trust her _completely_." He replied with a warm smile, placing his hand on the politicians shoulder. "Whatever is going to happen, I completely trust that she'll be able to lead _both_ sides to nothing short of victory."

"I trust her too, but _them_ …" He pointed towards the earth with an outstretched hand. "They… _we_ don't exactly have the greatest track record with good ideas…"

Superman didn't respond right away, allowing his own thoughts to carefully form. When he replied, he fastened the most confident grin he could muster into his features, and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Mr. President, I have _never_ once felt that humanity was incapable of learning or improving from past mistakes. If anything, I find the human spirit to be one of the most admirable things I've come across." Kirkpatrick's skeptical stare didn't disappear, so he flashed the President another large grin. "It's the truth…"

"Hmm, _truth_. A fickle, transparent concept completely malleable by nothing more than a deluge of convincing lies and distracting mazes…" he coughed as he quickly noticed the hard stare he was receiving from the superhero next to him. "…sorry, just a personal opinion…"

"I didn't know you were so cynical…" Superman replied, still slightly bemused.

"I'm a politician Superman, if whatever inkling of optimism you have isn't beaten out of you by the time you start meeting reporters, you're eaten alive…" He paused again, stroking his chin. With a weary sigh, he pushed off from the railing he was leaning against.

"I didn't want to confide in Wonder Woman with any of this because I thought it might dampen her enthusiasm…and I stand by my opinion that she doesn't like, or at least _trust_ , me very much. So…"

"None of this will be repeated." Superman interrupted with a rising hand. "But, I hope you dispel some of these negative thoughts soon. Not to sound overly brash, but if anything is to go wrong, it'll be because of undue doubt."

"Understood Superman." The President replied, a slight smile creeping back into his lips. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around the shoulders of the Man of Steel. "I have to say…I thought this place would be busier…"

…

…

…

Plastic Man lounged in his chair, his pliable body quiet literally dripping over the sides of his chair. Most of the monitors in the room were trained on different quadrants of the world, an assortment of bird's eye views of cities that scanned for anything from a small explosion to the full on discharge of a radioactive device.

No scanning of people, however, only the surrounding areas. Both Superman and Batman had insisted on that guideline, ostensibly for privacy reasons.

O'Brian was pretty damn sure it had something to do with that _incident_ with the college girls a few weeks after the system came on line though…

His attention, however, was not on the blinking images of the people he was sworn to protect, but instead on a small cluster of monitors situated in the centre of his vision, each one showing a gaunt looking man beating himself up in a bathroom.

" _I'm kicking my own ass! Do you mind!?"_

"Oh Jim…Jim, Jim, Jim…" Plastic Man sighed to himself, "what happened to you old buddy?"

Suddenly a high pitched wail pierced the air, jolting him with an audible _pop_ from his seat. Morphing into a stereotypical secretary from the 1950's, he pressed a flashing red button to his right.

"Hello, _Justice League of America_." He states in a high, nasally voice. Immediately, his eyes begin to widen as the desperate voice on the other end of the line fills the room around him. Finding the ability to speak, he presses the red button again…

"You do…"

More frantic noises.

"You _have_ …huh, no kidding…"

Releasing the button, he taps his chin for a brief second…until his mouth morphs into a megaphone and he slams his fist down onto the stations alarm.

"WE GOT ONE!"

…

…

…

The group of secret service agents came bounding around the corner as alarms blared around them. Superman, for his part, looked only mildly surprised. Noticing the look of apprehension on the Presidents face and his guards swarming around him, the Man of Steel flashed him a gentle smile.

"Speak of the devil…that's our new priority alarm system. Looks like we have a caller…"

"So we're not hurtling into the Sun then?" he asked somewhat nervously.

"Not this time, no."

"…wait not _this_ time?"

Superman missed the last comment as he turned to bolt down the hallway. "I need to go Mr. President, its urgent. I trust you know how to make it back to the hanger?"

Before the President could answer, the Man of Steel lifted off from the ground and shot down the hall, a harsh gust of wind blowing back into his face. He shuffled somewhat sheepishly as Agent Tresser pulled up next to him.

"How many floors did he say this place had?" he asked the blonde agent.

"Somewhere between thirty eight and forty one, sir."

"Ah…none of you fine gentlemen would have happened to pack a _GPS_ or something, would you?"

…

…

…

 _ **The Atlantic Ocean, 100 nautical miles off the Coast of the United Kingdom**_

Seven figures soared over the waters, the waves below parting under their shockwave like a royal carpet was being unrolled before them. The heroes closed the distance between them and the mainland quickly, using the interim time to strategize.

"What's the situation?" Superman asked to the sleek black figure of the Bat-wing he was flanking.

"Creatures from the Sea, of some sort." Batman replied in a completely serious tone.

"You know you love your job when you can say that without even cracking a smile." Green Lantern joked, flying low along the surface with an encased Plastic Man in tow.

"Remind me again why Aquaman isn't dealing with this?" the sprinting Flash asked next to them. Wonder Woman, taking up the other flank next to the Bat-Wing, answered for him.

"He's dealing with Atlantean politics at the moment; apparently they weren't very happy with the way the Obsidian Crisis was handled. I fear that we won't see him for quite some time."

"That still irks me to no end…" murmured Superman. J'onn drifted closer to him, speaking in a low, calm voice.

"There's nothing we can do for him at the moment. We should instead focus on…"

He silenced himself as the spires of London came into view…

"that…"

He wasn't sure if he was keeping his usually stoic composure at that moment, as he stared at a group of writhing, slimy, multi-appendaged creatures wormed their way closer to the city. Three towering beasts of the sea…and they were marching unrelentingly through the turbulent waves of the English channel towards one of the most heavily populated areas in the world…

Plastic Man voiced the shared opinion of the group with a cartoonishly agape mouth…

Sort of…

"Oh my god, Red Lobster is fighting back!"

"They'll hit the city in mere minutes…What's the plan?" Superman asked, again gesturing back to the Bat-Wing.

"Containment, for starters. Make sure none of them wander onto shore. Keep them distracted until the civilians are clear. If we're lucky, we'll exploit a weakness or two in the process. Then we figure out where they're coming from."

The plane lurched as the group split up into different directions, swarming around the towering cephalopods and crustaceans. "Flash, sweep the coast-line: set up a perimeter at least 10 miles from the shore."

"On it bats." Flash responded before disappearing in a blur of red and gold.

"J'onn, see if you can't figure out where these things are crawling out of, and whether or not they're sentient."

The Martian silently nodded his head before shooting up into the air, his legs crossed underneath him. His green skin began to shift and change as the tendrils of his mind stretched into the invisible plane of thought around him. The remaining heroes closed the distance between them and the creatures, getting a clear look at the suckers and mass of sickly flesh.

"Lantern, we need a wall in case they get passed us."

"Armed or un-armed Bats?"

Batman couldn't contain a slight smile from forming on his lips. "I'll let you decide."

"Armed it is!" Kyle exclaimed. He flung Plastic Man from his giant bubble towards the Bat-Wing, his plastic form splashing onto the windshield. His smiling face stared at the dark image of Batman in the cockpit.

"You're a lot grumpier looking than the last guy that picked me up!"

Even through the glass and the howling winds, O'Brian could hear the growl…

" _gulp…_ …"

"The rest of us;" the plane turned sharply, throwing the now growing Plastic Man off its window, "hit these things _hard_."

A massive, glowing green wall, decked in futuristic weaponry, materialized in front of the London skyline, a string of rockets and lasers pouring out towards the lumbering beasts. With a burst of speed, Superman plowed fists first into the nearest tentacle beast, while Wonder Woman roped off several arms with her lasso and tugged on the creature…

…right into the path of her haymaker…

A deluge of high explosive rockets leapt from the underside of the Bat-Wing, crashing into the backs of one of the beasts. Next to it, a leaping Plastic Man enveloped one of the creatures with his pliable body.

"I've got 'em! _I'VE_ got 'em. _Me_. The guy made out of plastic!" He desperately tried to avoid one of the things flailing arms as he restructured his grip. "So if someone with super strength wants to tag team me out of here I won't be offended!"

A blast of solid green energy slammed into the creature just below Plastic Man's stretched out arm, sending the creature reeling in pain. Kyle flew next to his teammate, a smirk on his face.

"Coach says you can hit the showers O'Brian."

"I'm not going to get cancer from that, am I?" Plastic Man asked as he folded into a ball.

"Probably not."

Kyle conjured up a massive green baseball bat with his ring. As Plastic Man fell, he swung his arm, directing the construct right into the curled up form of his fellow hero. The bat smacked into him, sending him flying with incredible force into the still reeling monster.

"Hey stop stealing Batman's job!" he called back, his head stretching backwards towards the still smirking Kyle.

Batman weaved through the flailing tendrils as he delivered another blizzard of high velocity rounds to the underside of the nearest creature. As he ascended into the sunny sky, he called out to J'onn telepathically.

 _Any progress?_

 _Patience Batman, these creatures are immense webs of….._

 _Can you at least tell us how many there are?_

 _You'll be happy to know that there are only the three we see before us, since you refuse to take my advice….._

 _Understood_. He cut off the connection as he spoke into his communicator. The plane emitted a high pitched groan as he turned sharply in the air.

"J'onn needs more time, but there's only the four. Hit them with everything we've got!"

In silent agreement, Diana directed one creature tentacle attack into the bulbous eye of another, before delivering a powerful roundhouse kick into what could only be described as a slobbering beak. She plowed head first into the other snarling creature as the now blinded beast was sent flying into the enclosed fist of Superman. He slammed it high into the air with a massive uppercut, straight into the path of a glowing green asteroid.

The still bouncing Plastic Man stretched his hand to massive proportions, and on springing legs he launched himself to the towering height of the remaining monster, and with an open palm he slapped the sea creature hard in the face. It snapped it's pincers at him, a thunderous growl escaping from its depths.

"Got your nose Sebastian!"

The giant crab-like entity was distracted long enough for the Bat-Wing to pepper it with missiles in a low strafing run, knocking it forward…

…and straight into the path of its breather as it tumbled back to the surface, howling in pain when it landed on the jutting spikes of the crustacean. Massive waves licked the giant wall, filling the glancing Kyle with concern.

"They're getting close to the wall! Wally better not have tripped or something, or else this could get messy _quick_!"

…

…

…

The Metropolitan Police Service had done an admirable job clearing the streets, however in Flash's far more experienced opinion, they hadn't placed the barricades _nearly_ as far back as they should have. For cautions sake.

It took him only a few seconds to rectify that mistake.

The areas of London bordering water were soon sparking with red and gold energy as he whipped through stores, offices and houses, quickly explaining the situation and grabbing anyone within reach. The nearest Officer in Charge recommended the isolated City of London as the primary drop off point for anyone who needed to be moved. Failing that, the Flash could travel to the edge of the city in less than ten seconds.

Well, with _passengers_ anyways. He'd have to slow down enough to keep them shielded from debris and the wind.

As he was clearing out the region, he passed a group of officers arguing with two patrons at a bar. Five times, if he counted correctly. They seemed adamant on not budging from their street-side seats.

Which is why he had shooed the officers away and was now standing in front of two old and very crotchety men, arguing with them as they continued to sip away at their pints with disinterested stares.

"Guys, _seriously_! There's a category five disaster just rummaging around in the bay! We need to move!"

"…'as Margret Thatcher risen from the grave or somethin'?" The crustier of the two asked.

"What? No I…"

"I thought you said it was a disaster." The other piped in after a long swig of his Guinness.

Flash couldn't help but palm his forehead. "Look guys, I don't care how good the beer here is…"

"No you listen 'ere you." The crusty one interrupted. "Me pops was going to this 'ere pub back when the Germans 'ere bombin' us back to the stone age. It's about good ol' English pride, about us not bein' intimi'ate by bunch of ugly…"

"Oh for crying out loud…"

"…son's of…Bill, why the 'ell are we in a field?" He asked. His friend jolted around, startled, at the complete change of scenery. Instead of the stuffy yet friendly interior of their favorite bar, the duo now sat in the middle of a farmer's field, the only other soul around being a cow that stared unendingly at the new visitors. Composed, the second man looked at his near empty glass.

"Hey, I was gonna get a refill I was!"

A full beer materialized on the table along with a strong gust of wind. The two men were nearly blown off their chairs, both from shock _and_ from the immense force of Flash's sprinting. The crustier of the two gentlemen groaned as he gripped his hat.

"I think I like our _old_ busboy be'er…"

…

…

…

 _It's done._ J'onn announced telepathically. _I know where they're from._

 _We're listening_. Batman replied. He grunted as the plane spun around the flailing arms of the nearest monster, just barely avoiding a direct hit.

 _They're a mutated spore that grew under the tectonic plates in the Atlantic. Subterranean dwellers, completely adapted to living in high pressure environments._

 _Explains why their skin is so tough….._ mused Superman as he delivered another hard punch to one of the beasts shell. He dodged a retributive punch as it rocked backwards, instead deflecting the blow hard into the other creatures face.

Wonder Woman deflected a blow with her bracelets. _Are they sentient?_

 _They are operating merely on animalistic rage…..but I do detect the spark of intelligence. A collective one at short ranges it seems…_

 _Then we'll have to send them back where they came from_ without _anything more than superficial damage….._ Batman mused, rocking his craft to the side again. He switched to external comms as J'onn's floating form lowered itself closer to the surface.

"City's clear!" Flash shouted as he sprinted into the water, using his super human speed to skip over its surface.

"Good. New plan; we need to get these things underground. Superman, find an area off shore far enough that these things can't burrow under the city, and then crack it open."

"Got it Batman." He took off for the open waters in a blur of colour, sending shockwaves throughout the water as he passed.

"If they operate like a hive mind, we can disorient them by attacking simultaneously. You punch one, someone else needs to punch the others at the same time. Hopefully that will disorient them…but we need someone to have enough energy to push them out to see once Superman's done."

"I've got something in mind…" Green Lantern stated as he ducked next to Plastic Man.

"Flash can keep them in one area by creating a cyclone around them." Wonder Woman added, readying her lasso. "That way we can keep track of them." Another grin formed on Batman's face as the remaining heroes grouped together.

"Good thinking. Let's hit them; fast and hard!"

Plastic Man snickered. "That's what she-ow!"

"Don't make me feed you to Cthulhu over here…" Lantern reprimanded.

…

…

…

Superman hit the water hard as he plowed through the rushing torrents. By his count, he was far enough passed the bay that the creatures would sooner head for open waters than try to head back for a populated area.

He almost made a joke about digging a tunnel to France for them, but he managed to mentally slap himself for being immature…

He quickly scanned the bed rock with his x-ray vision, searching for a deep enough crevice to burrow into. On the second pass, he found what he was looking for; a long cavern stretching deep into the Earth's surface. Deep enough to contain a trio of angry, super strong beasts.

It was perfect. No one would be hurt, and these creatures wouldn't bother anyone for a very, _very_ long time.

 _Alright…now I just need to dig through it without causing an Earth-quake…..shouldn't be too hard, there's no rush. They've got everything under control….._

…

…

…

"J'onn! Get Plastic Man out of there!" Batman bellowed as his plane made another low fly-by of the target.

"A moment, please…" The Martian's response was calm; an odd sight coming from what Batman could only imagine was an apex predator back on prehistoric Mars. J'onn's massive arms were entangled with the slithering tentacles of his foe, keeping the powerful alien from the panicking (and completely dazed) Plastic Man. Wonder Woman flew next to the Martian Manhunter, kicking away one of the offending tentacles.

"I can handle these two J'onn, go get O'Brian before he's sucked into Flash's vortex!"

With a slight nod, J'onn's form collapsed into his more recognizable appearance, leaving Diana lone between the two creatures. She motioned to Batman as his plane dipped between them.

"Wait for my signal, and then hit the third one!" she shouted.

"Understood. Prepping my last Sub-Zero Missiles."

She waited for the Bat-Wing to rocket back into the air and take up position behind the third creature. As he turned, she shot towards the crab like creature, currently too distracted by the green Spitfires buzzing around it. With a mighty war cry, she tore into its claw, ripping its lower pincer clean off. It reared back, howling in pain. She tossed the appendage into the air and looped her lasso around it, dragging it behind her as she vaulted over its head. Seeing Batman level out over the water, she screamed into her comm-link.

"NOW!"

She drove the heel of her boot into the head of the crustacean, while simultaneously whipping the discarded claw through the air towards the tentacle beast beside it. Heel and pincer met flesh as Batman's last missiles rammed into the last creature, showering it in freeze liquid.

All three creatures bawled, grasping at their heads with whichever floundering arm was still functional. The drifted towards the middle of the surrounding cyclone, writhing in agony, as their telepathic connection broadcasted a sensory overload. Having flung Plastic Man clear of Wally's imprisoning storm, J'onn took the opportunity to hit them with a powerful mental attack, eliciting yet another cacophony of animalistic screams as they fully collapsed in on one another.

"Flash, tighten up your pattern! Box them in!" Batman demanded as his plane passed over them. The blur of red moved in closer on itself, enclosing around the beasts with a wall of water and wind.

The Bat-Wing pulled up next to Wonder Woman, who was similarly sweeping the area while the creatures were downed.

"Hardly _superficial_ damage, Princess."

"Sorry to break from your orders." She replied with a light, teasing undertone.

"Don't be. That was a tactically brilliant maneuver." Batman replied with a slight smile. "I wish _I_ had thought of it."

She returned his smile as she pulled up next to the canopy. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you said that."

Off in the distance, Superman burst from the ocean's surface, rocketing towards the group. He headed straight for Green Lantern, his glowing green form waiting ably for the next phase.

"It's ready, do your thing Lantern! Follow my con-trail and you'll hit a crevice deep enough to hold them!"

"Got it Supes; everyone…might want to stand back…"

Flash's cyclone disappeared as he, and every other member save Superman, retreated behind him. Kyle's face contorted with concentration as his ring shone a blinding green. The three monsters managed to stand upright and roar at the lone figure…

Only to be hit by a glowing emerald bulldozer the size two supercarriers…

The mutants were launched backwards as their slimy bodies absorbed the entirety of Kyle's crushing blow. Superman followed their pace as Kyle continued to push them backwards. Then, rocketing high into the air, he signalled out to the now binocular wearing Lantern…

And dove back towards the ground… The green bulldozer was replaced with an equally massive block of wood hovering just over the bewildered monsters heads. Pushing against Lantern's construct, Superman pile drived the creatures hard into the water at just the right angle, sending their flailing bodies into the ravine he had carved out.

The tumbled downwards into the inky depths of the ocean, a clutter of bubbles rising from the shadows. Paying it little heed, Superman's eyes shone a piercing red. With a grunt, he released a powerful blast of heat from his eyes, obliterating several tons of rock around the crevice and melting them in the process. The liquid hot rock fused together over the edges of the drop off, sealing the creatures inside with several layers of melted earth. Satisfied, Superman surfaced quickly, speeding towards the youngster with just enough time to catch his exhausted, falling form.

"Hmmm…my hero." He joked weakly, chuckling along with the Man of Steel. "Just…don't let Tonka sue me…

…

…

…

"I don't believe a single person was harmed today." J'onn stated proudly. "We should all be extremely happy with our performance."

"Yeah, 'specially this guy here." Wally tussled Kyle's hair in super speed, drawing a slight wince from the Green Lantern.

"Hey, no scrambling my brains dude." He chirped.

Plastic Man was about to join in, until he saw a man trod towards them, wearing what he thought was clearly the fakest looking smile he had ever seen…

No small statement from a professional con-man…

"Who's the guy in the fancy suit?" he asked, his thumb growing to obscenely large proportions.

"That would be Prime Minister David Cameron." J'onn replied neutrally. "Also known as the man who called us."

"Huh…he kinda looks like a weenie."

J'onn's expression didn't change. "If you value the continued existence of your job, you'll keep it to yourself."

"Ah so you must be the people I thank for saving the day, hmm?" the Prime Minister stated exuberantly. "I think it goes without saying that we, the people of Britain, are in your debt."

"Ehhh that's nice and all." Plastic Man piped up before anyone could silence him, "but you should wait and speak to the _real_ reason we're here, the ever regal Princess Diana!" His neck stretched towards the now uncomfortable politician, his lips curling in an attempt to hush his voice.

"Don't worry, it's the one with her head still attached to her shoulders…"

David Cameron's uncomfortable face shifted into complete shock with speed that would make Flash jealous. Wally and J'onn could only stare, dumbfounded, at their college, while Kyle clamped onto his neck with his bare hands.

 _He's trying to start another war, isn't he?_ J'onn thought to himself, completely petrified at what thoughts were surely running through Prime Minister Cameron's mind. He sighed in relief as Diana appeared next to him.

"Ah, Mr. Prime Minister, I'm glad you came out here to speak to us!" she stated excitedly, her hand outstretched towards him. She noticed the look of abject horror on his face, something that was being mirrored on every other JLA members face except for Kyle, who was busy strangling…

O'Brian…

It didn't take long for the pieces to click together…

"Alright, what did he say and what do I need to do to make it go away?" she deadpanned with a tired sigh…

Situated a ways behind the group, Superman and Batman hovered near the parked Bat-Wing, staring out over the city. Both were equally relieved to see not even a single plume of smoke throughout the conurbation. No damage, no panic, no loss of life…

A job well done indeed…

"Thirty nine." Batman stated, breaking the peaceful silence. Superman glanced over at the Dark Knight curiously.

"Pardon?"

"There are thirty nine floors in the Watchtower."

The Man of Steel chuckled lightly. "So you were listening?"

A small smile appeared beneath the rim of his mask. "I'm _always_ listening." He noticed Superman's face harden, his eyes becoming steely. Ever the detective, Batman anticipated the only logical next question with gritted teeth.

"So then you heard…"

"She'll talk if she wants to talk, not before. Trying to force it out of her is a losing game."

"It doesn't mean I don't worry."

Batman sighed as his caped enveloped his shoulders. "She's far too proud and strong to want anyone to worry."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" he replied with a chuckle.

"Yes, I _would_." Came Batman's icy reply. He mentally kicked himself for making the situation worse, and with a far more gentle voice, he turned to his plane.

"I know it sounds weird coming from me, but relax a little. She's Wonder Woman, she'll make the right decision when she's ready. On her _own_ terms."

The Man of Steel stood in silence as he boarded his jet, the roar of the engines filling his enhanced hearing with thunderous fire. "I need to get back to the case; I'm far more behind than I'd like. Let me know if anything comes up on your end."

He didn't close the canopy just yet, instead pausing and smirking slightly at the Man of Steel. "And next time, don't leave the President alone on the Watchtower. He was lost for a good forty five minutes..."

With a subtle smile, Superman turned back to the group, a little more sated than before, and focused his eased eyes back on the group of heroes. He couldn't help but noticed everyone staring at Plastic Man, the British Prime Minister looking particularly perturbed. Based off the look he was getting from Diana, it almost looked like he had deeply offended the man or some-…

It took every ounce of his upbringing to prevent a long stream of swears from escaping his mouth as he trudged towards them…

Sometimes it was easier working alone…

* * *

 **Major bonus points to whoever got what Superman and Wonder Woman were arguing about.**

 **So, yeah, that's the next chapter, complete with some good ol' British Political Satire (even though I'm Canadian and before you say it, NO those are not the same thing. The Canadian Dollar is FAR worse than the British Pound right now) and probably the darkest joke I've ever said in public. So...enjoy.**

 **Also I went back in time and retconned the Secretary of Meta Human Affairs into being a woman, since...honestly this story needs more women in it. Really no other reason besides that. I'm just telling you this so that there's no confusion later on when you're saying "WAIT! I thought it was some guy named Greg", or whatever).**

 **Hope you enjoyed the read and be sure to leave a comment in the comment section! Or favorite if you haven't done that.**

 **It's how I judge my self worth...seriously...**


	6. Chapter 5: Clear and Present Danger

***Runs screaming into the story with an exhausted look in his eyes***

 **Yipes, sorry for the massive delay in updates! I...well I have an excuse but it's not a good one.**

 **Turns out I'm allergic to latex. I'll let you fill in the blanks yourself (it's not the one you think, you know the dirty one? It involves paint, because I'm an idiot...)**

 **Anyways, unfortunately expect future delays with updates as I move from a relatively easy spring semester filled with flimsy philosophy courses to a summer semester filled with Labour Economics, which is about as stimulating as rubbing your tongue with sandpaper and then drinking a glass of the world's worst lemonade...**

 **But, without further adue, the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it! And thank you kindly for the reviews and favorites!**

 **Oh, and a very merry happy (and other synonyms) Canada Day (a day late that is) to all my fellow Canucks. We should all celebrate by eating two tons of poutine and then getting a free check-up complete with a maple syrup flavoured lollypop from the doctors.**

 **And then laugh at Saskatchewan for being flat and also on fire...somewhat.**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5**_

 _ **"Clear and Present Danger"**_

" _I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat is…."_

…

 _Martian Manhunter_

…

 _ **The Quracian Desert:**_

The dunes remind me a lot of home. The sands are peaceful, tranquil, and ancient beyond imagination. They are also arid, harsh and in many ways an omnipresent danger. Someone woefully unprepared or just obscenely arrogant wouldn't stand much chance out here; they could easily be cooked alive or smothered or, if they are extremely unlucky, shrivel up as their tongues turn to dust.

It is a morbid thought, but one that keeps everything in perspective. You can take the Martian out of Mars, but the facts of life never really change.

We were a divided species; White Martians pursuing their agenda of conquest and eradication, while us Green Martians preferred to live a secluded and introspective lifestyle, focusing on philosophy and science over bloodshed. Always struggling against one another, always dragging our race backwards as we clamoured over our dead. The never ending battles of Peace versus War, Physical prowess versus Mental, Dominance versus Coexistence. As simple a conflict as one can get, boiling down simply to how to live your life and treat those around you. As a former colleague would often remark, it was Black versus White.

Or in this case, _Green_ versus White…

When I first walked amongst humanity, I thought that human conflict was far more complex than that, disquietingly so. It seemed to stem from any matter of reasons, some related, others utterly foreign to one another. A debate over something as simplisitc as your favorite author could carry the same weight as a disagreement over the proper course of action your country's military should take. I just assumed that human minds were far more fractured, that as a species they were doomed by their diversity to forever find some reason to remain at each other's throats. Over time, I grew to realize that I couldn't have been more wrong. Conflict on Earth, as it was on Mars, is merely a daily clash of how you live your life versus how the rest of society lives theirs, manifested in different ways in different people.

As I said, you can take the Martian out of Mars…

It was arrogant thinking, the likes of which I have remained vigilant for ever since, actively purging them from my thoughts without hesitation when the inevitably arise. When one's job involves acting as guardian for such a young yet vibrant race, any delusions of grandeur could easily spell disaster. Clark had the good fortune of being raised as a son of Kansas first, and discovering that he was the sole survivor of a dead planet much later on. Diana had her tomes, her mother, and her innate sense to connect with the people around her. They also had anchors, regular human beings that they trusted enough to confide in.

I was not as fortunate, even if Batman and I had shared some…involving moments in the Justice League International…

That left me as the wild card, the truly isolated alien. I was well aware of the danger that could pose for anyone in my vicinity. It is why I possess many alternate forms with which I use to gallivant with, as another former colleague once said, "the common rabble". It helps remind me why I fight for them, even when my opponent is a legendary Emerald Knight with a weight tied around the legs of his soul, dragging him into an unforgiving, black swamp.

Another morbid thought, and a painful memory, but it helps distract me from the gnawing discomfort in my gut. Diana isn't the only one suffering from that right now, not that she would ever admit it.

I'm hovering amongst the clouds, concealed behind puffs of white dancing around me in the heavy breeze. Below me is a convoy, armed with weapons bought from nearly three weeks worth of international aid and piled into vehicles that cost even more than the squandered caches of guns and rockets. Somewhere, packed amongst the tools of violence, is a car carrying one of the most senior members of the Ministry of External Relations. He's a gruff yet personable man with countless connections to every powerful nation on the planet, strategically chosen after the nation's capital was destroyed by Cheshire.

And here in lies the source of my discomfort.

We were called in to guard him, keep him safe from what the government calls a horde of "radical militants". And yet we have no frame of reference for their reasoning, and no real proof that this group is anything more than a vocal band of dissidents. The only information given to us is that they're supposedly cold blooded killers threatening the existence of their nation.

It reminds me of a battle I had against Doctor Dream-Slayer; he had planted psychic grenades throughout Sydney and had threatened to detonate them…all to protest against a conglomerate mining ancient aboriginal lands for weapons grade uranium.

A noble gesture, and extreme solution. Battles like that, the inherently political and murky ones, make me feel… _off_. They are far from the "black and white" escapades of rampaging monsters or undead gods. I truly believe that few in the JLA besides Batman and Wonder Woman are truly accustomed to the shades of grey that permeates the world. The rest of us can't help but feel… _naked_ outside the simple dichotomy of good versus evil.

Again, arrogant thinking on my part. My mind rebels at the notion that simplistic causality is no longer sufficient, even after all that I've experienced amongst humans. At the same time, the fact that I have not acclimated yet leaves erodes my confidence.

Not something you want an ancient Martian Telepath to say.

It is why I brought along on two other members of the League with me, despite Batman's newly crafted protocols for the Initiative. I like to think that in all our years with the Justice League International, I managed to gather the skills necessary to successfully navigate Batman's impassible exterior, or at least could channel my own inner Guy Gardner and cause him to give up with an exasperated sigh…or a single, well-timed punch. But I can't help but concede that his increasingly more… _pleasant_ demeanour is more likely the reason why I managed to skirt the rules.

I'm fully aware of why this is, of course. I am, after all, a telepath…

 _We're in position J'onn_ , Wally communicates to me telepathically, _just waiting on the fireworks_.

 _Excellent timing Flash._ I reply. _I believe our company should be arriving hat in hand very soon_.

 _Good, because I'm pretty sure I just sneezed out an entire sandbox here…_

I begin to drop through the clouds as I turn invisible, blending in with the crisp blue sky and the white clouds. In mere moments, my plan will be stress tested in real time, with real lives in the balance. I am not nervous; while I may not be the foremost tactician on our team, I am certainly no slouch in the art of subterfuge and strategy. Everything should go as planned.

Though that could always be the last vestige of arrogance escaping from me at the worst possible moment, nothing ever goes according to plan…perhaps making sure the "troops" are sufficiently motivated will help.

 _Fear not Wally. I'm sure you can borrow one of the militants sleeves when they get here…_

…

…

…

The driver of the heavily armoured Humvee was used to the unexpected at this point in his life. His country had all but been obliterated by nuclear fire only a few years ago, forced to crawl up through the radioactive ashes of their homeland. The preceding years were filled with vile memories of government oppression followed closely by western retaliation for sponsored terrorist attacks. He still remembered the attempted merger with Bialya.

He didn't think he had ever seen fire burn that long before. Then again, he had never seen fire from a meta-human up until that point either. One thing after another…

It was hard for a man like him to fly under the radar and avoid getting swept up in the torrents of a chaotic world. More than likely, that's why he found himself strapped to a bullet proof vest, armed to the teeth, and pushing a British made and American manufactured vehicle to its absolute limits through the dustiest desert on the planet.

There was an alien hovering hundreds of feet above his head, too. He certainly couldn't forget that little detail…

With the deluge of rapid thoughts threatening to overwhelm him, he failed to notice several buggies rapidly approach the rear of the convoy.

Right until his side view mirror was enveloped completely in reflected light. Glancing behind him, he saw the armada of heavily modified dune buggies and their masked occupants closing the distance rapidly. The one in front swerved into his view, where the sleek metal of massive canon glistened in the hot sun.

He swore.

"[Mother of god…]"

Before it could fire at him, a red blur flashed across his mirror. A powerful gust of wind rocked the car, causing the man to fight against the steering wheel as the tires swayed. He caught another glance of the scene behind him; the masked man in the buggy looked just as shocked as he was.

The attacker looked even more shocked as colours dashed in front of him again, and he found himself holding a large cactus instead of a weapon. At least for the brief second it took for the pain to register…

"[What the hell kind of back-up did we get?]" he asked himself aloud…

Behind him, the equally bewildered militants were scanning the area, barking orders at one another to find whatever was attacking and put it down before their quarry got away. The leader waved his assault rifle wildly at his following legion, telling them to spread out and form a defensive perimeter while his car approached the convoy. It was at that moment when another gust of wind nearly knocked him from the vehicle, and he found himself staring at a smirking man dressed in red and gold.

"Sir your left taillight is out!" He said to the leader, easily keeping pace with the speeding buggy. The militant's eyes bugged out of his head.

"[No…no god not them!]"

He flashed the militant a confused look. "Uh J'onn, what did he say?"

 _He said he's very happy to see us_. The Martian replied in a telepathic deadpan.

"Oh, good to hear. I'll pull them over so we can sign autographs…"

Zooming ahead of the approaching attackers and the convoy they chased, Flash suddenly veered hard to the right. His mind flew at light speed, completing and double checking his optimal approach angle. Finally confirming his math, Wally ground to a halt, waited a full half second, and then began twirling like a crimson tornado.

With his incredible speed, he dug deep into the arid ground, kicking up funnels of dust into the air in the process. The falling sand blanketed the areas he passed in a shroud of darkness as his makeshift sandstorm picked up momentum. He barreled towards the desert car chase, slowing down only slightly as the friendly convoy cleared his path.

The militants were not so lucky…

The dust enveloped them in a choking haze, causing the buggies to swerve uncontrollably as their drivers coughed and hacked. The Leader held onto the edge of his vehicle with a vice like grip as he rummaged in his equipment bag. With a grunt, he pulled out a set of advanced looking goggles, a sonar-based system according to their mysterious benefactor, and quickly fastened them to his face. He poked his head over the front of the buggy, staring directly into the dust storm that consumed them.

He swore.

Before he could twist his neck and call back to his troops, his buggy collided with the massive trench that Flash had created, sending them barreling head over heels into the dusty air. The remaining buggies followed suit, careening into the chopped up ground and flinging both troops and equipment in every direction with what Flash could only describe as extremely comical yelps.

It distracted him long enough to miss the bruised and incensed leader rise from the ditch and pull out a communicator.

Flash failed to notice the man's shaking fists and loud yelling too…

With a satisfied smirk, Flash slowed his pace and glanced back at the settling dust cloud behind him, only now seeing the disappearing silhouette of the militant leader in the distance.

"Well J'onn, we've got a massive pile up on the desert freeway; looks like traffic will be backed up for quite a while…"

 _Don't be so sure. We have a contingent of drones moving in on your location_.

"Wait…Drones?" Flash's voice lost its comedic undertone. "How in the world can they…?"

He was interrupted by several high pitched roars streaking overhead. Flash looked up at several speeding dots race across the sky like massive, gliding birds, only to see them dive towards the ground, heading straight for him and the convoy driving next to him.

"I see them. Any idea how I can…"

Flash was again interrupted as one of the drones streaked over his head, heading straight for the car in the centre of the convoy. It hovered next to it for a second, its camera trained on the passenger inside.

It was Flash's turn to swear.

"Dammit, I think they've figured out where we stashed the Minister! I could, you know, use some help down here!"

 _Try to draw some of them away from the vehicles. I'm on my way._

Nodding his head, Flash pulled underneath the nearest drone. He stuck his arms into the air and began to rapidly spin them around, forming a cyclone right below the hostile craft. The torrents of air struck the hull hard, disintegrating it into a thousand pieces. The other drones swarmed around him like angered wasps; he wasn't sure if they were armed or merely designed to follow their intended target, but he didn't intend to take any chances regardless.

Running in a zig zag pattern, he tried to maneuver the chasing drones away from the still speeding pack of armoured cars. He kept staring back at the swarm that was following him, growing increasingly nervous as they seemed to hone in on the middle car.

"J'onn if you're going to do something…"

For a final time, he was interrupted as the Martian Manhunter materialized in the sky just a few miles in front of them. Nonchalantly raising his hand, his eyes glowed a powerful and fiery orange…

And all the chasing drones stopped dead in their tracks like someone had tied an indestructible rope to the end of their tails. Their engines groaned and shook as they tried to push forward, but the Manhunter remained completely stoic, not a single tremble on his entire green body.

Flash, on the other hand, was completely flabbergasted.

He skidded to a halt below J'onn as the convoy followed suit, many of the Quraci soldiers leaning out of their vehicles to stare at the spectacle above them. Wally could only whistle as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Jeez Neo, I didn't know you could do that."

"You're starting to sound like Plastic Man." J'onn replied with absolutely no strain present in his voice.

"…oh god I think you're right…"

With the tiniest flick of his wrist, J'onn sent the entire squadron of hostile drones shot into the air, only to condense into a tightly packed ball a second later and explode in a bright, violent flash of orange and black. The Martian Manhunter couldn't help but smile as he stared over the agape faces of the Quraci armed guard.

"I think that we are done here. If you would all be so kind as to re-enter your vehicles, we can…" He paused as he face twitched slightly, sensing something on the subconscious level that no one else present could feel. His eyes shot wide as he shouted towards Flash.

"Wally, get down!"

J'onn had just finished his warning when a roaring engine appeared over the sandy horizon. Flash turned around in surprise and horror as the militant leader and his troop filled buggy barreled over the loose dunes towards the group, shouting and waving several massive weapons in their direction. With his super speed he was easily able to dodge the deluge of bullets and searing lasers, but the stunned soldiers behind him were completely frozen in fear, unable to even bring their assault rifles to bear as it barreled down on them…

…until a blur of red swept them aside, depositing them safely a few feet away from the rain of fire. Flash turned to the one decked out in heavy armour. "Stay here and stay hidden, we'll be back for you." He paused. "…or they will, but try not to think negatively like that."

"Please go." The armoured person responded meekly.

With a quick nod, Flash took off towards the clearly incensed leader as he aimed a massive and spinning launcher on the inert middle car. He was just about to duck his shoulder and charge into it like a speeding rhino when he felt a tiny tingle at the base of his spine…

…only to be rocked backwards by a shrill noise that tore at his brain and ripped into his ear drums. He crumpled to his knees, feeling a warm trickle of blood drip from his ears, as he screamed out to J'onn.

"Ahhhhhit sounds like marble scraping steel! Make it stop, _make it stop!_ "

 _Hold on Wally! I'll…_

Just as J'onn reached the buggy, the leader dropped the canon and hurled a small, black object directly into the Martian's path. With his enhanced Martian vision, he could see the missing pin and the rough ridges. A grenade, clearly, and if recent events proved anything to J'onn…

Before he could bring his arms up to shield his eyes, the grenade exploded, igniting the air and enveloping the area in highly flammable gas. J'onn let out a ragged scream as he tumbled through the flames, landing hard in a desert dune and writhing hard amongst the sand in a vain attempt to put out the all consuming fire. Wally, now back on his feet, shifted his gaze rapidly between his wounded friend and the middle car, his mind weighed down by the dilemma he now faced. It took him less than half a second to rush to J'onn's aid, all the while cursing himself and every villain he could think of for making the hero always play a game of multiple choice in these scenarios.

The Leader meanwhile had closed the distance between himself and his target quickly, leaping from the buggy before it had even stopped. Rushing towards the rear door, he readied his assault rifle as he gripped the handle. With a sweeping motion, he ripped open the door…

…only to be confronted by a caricatured version Jessica Rabbit. He nearly dropped his weapon in shock as he stared at the image in front of him, stuttering like a tongue tied idiot.

"I-I…what…I…"

"Well well well, aren't you a naughty boy for peaking…" "Jessica" stated with sensual wink. The fact that her voice was very clearly that of a man from Brooklyn further unnerved the militant leader…until a thought dawned on him.

His confused stare quickly turned to one of searing anger.

"Unholy trickster!" he screamed in heavily accented English, pointing an accusatory finger towards the undercover JLA member. Plastic Man merely batted a cartoonish eyelash.

"I'm not a trickster; I was just mutated that way…"

Before the attacker could respond, Plastic Man kicked out his extended leg and walloped the man hard in his face, sending him flying backwards with a clearly broken nose. Morphing back into his regular form, Plastic Man patted the shaking driver on his shoulder and leapt out of the vehicle, landing with a thud in the middle of an increasingly confused contingent of militants. He puffed up his form like an inflated balloon and stared menacingly at the soldiers surrounding him.

"So…you guys gonna give up all nice-like? Or am I gonna have to start spankin' bottoms?"

They had little chance to respond before they found themselves knocked aside by a blur of red, each of the remaining soldiers dropping hard to the ground with spinning eyes. Plastic Man deflated himself as Flash stopped next to him. Noticing a somewhat annoyed glare coming from his teammate, he lightly tapped O'Brian on the shoulder.

"Sorry, wanted to…work out some aggression with these guys. You know, for torching J'onn and all that."

"He alright?" Plastic Man asked, stretching his neck into the air in an attempt to locate him.

"I'm fine, O'Brian." The Martian replied as he materialized behind him. He grew a discrete smirk as Plastic Man visibly jumped. "But thank you for asking."

"Ah, Jesus God, Zeus and Larry don't do that! I'm jumpy and you know it!"

"That is for the Princess Diana joke." J'onn chuckled. He turned his head towards the horizon as the group of soldiers Flash deposited came running towards them. The heavily armoured one appeared to lead the group, causing J'onn's smile to disappear. "Besides, I think our fun is over for the moment…"

The armoured man removed his helmet with a huff, revealing a well shaven man whose face was somewhere on the border between terrified and furious. To J'onn, he couldn't have looked any more like a politician if he tried…

"You call this _protection_?!" he spat with only the slightest hint of an accent. "That was closer to _running for our lives_ than anything else!"

"I did most of the running…" Flash deadpanned with crossed arms. He grunted as J'onn elbowed him in the side and telepathically scolded him.

 _Not now Wally!_ "Mr…uh Deputy Minister, I apologize if this didn't go exactly to plan. But I think we have far more _pressing_ concerns at the moment…"

"You're right about _one_ thing then," he conceded as several of his soldiers drug the militant leader next to him, "we're going to take this… _scum_ …with us back to the capital. While his heads on the chopping block I'm going to insist that the Minister of External Affairs make a very strong _call_ to that underwear model you keep around…"

J'onn stepped forward, seemingly looming over the Deputy Minister, as his voice lowered and his eyes became a piercing orange. "That is not even _remotely_ what I am referring to, _Deputy_ Minister," he accentuated the first bit of his title as if it was an insult, "these men clearly came prepared to face us, which implies several _unpleasant_ possibilities. The least of which means that these militants are in league with someone far beyond what your analysts suggest." He leaned in closer, his intimidating visage reminding the retreating politician of a snarling cobra prepared to strike.

"And if you execute that man, you'll be sure to see just how _force full_ our "underwear model" can be when someone _angers_ her. If a man with his finger on almost thirty five hundred nuclear weapons shriveled in fear under her glare, then what hope would someone like _you_ possibly have?"

He gulped, fully doing the insidious calculus in his head. Though far from composed, he attempted to assert himself to the still looming Martian. "This is my… _our_ country, the Quraci people's country…I… _we,_ will do as we please with _our_ prisoner…" J'onn's glare hardened further as the Flash and Plastic Man backed away slowly, eliciting another nervous gulp from the Deputy Minister. "…uhm…sir…" he finished.

"War crimes would look unfavorably on your resume, so I suggest you allow the JLA to hold him for further questioning…"

"Do not…Do not attempt to assert dominance over me… _us_ …Martian. We won't…we won't be intimidated by green skinned bullies!" The Minister nervously stammered out, fully aware that his men we're slowly backing away as well.

Before J'onn could respond in kind, the leader's eyes shot open. In a fit of near animalistic rage, he jerked his arm out of the grasp of the soldier restraining him. As the Quraci soldier yelped in surprise, the militant leader shoved his arm hard _through_ the man's ribcage, killing him with a pained, gory scream. As everyone turned to react, the leader reached into his robes and pulled out a sleek, silver gun, and pointed it at J'onn.

" _Kill you Martian Manhunter! I KILL YOU!"_ he growls out with a voice that seems far more like an animal than that of a human. J'onn was taken aback at the rapid degradation of the man, something he had never seen with such intensity before. The now drooling leader waved the gun wildly, man and hero alike frozen in both shock and anticipation, as he squeezes the trigger…

…only to have the gun explode in his hand and engulf him in bright flames, almost instantly boiling and blistering his skin and setting several surrounding soldiers ablaze. He screamed another inhuman scream as J'onn backed away from the flames licking the air, while the still shocked scrambled around in vain attempts to pat down the flames. The Deputy Minister screamed as well as he launched himself into the protection of the sands, his arms wrapped around his head for cover.

In an instant, the flames died out, their fuel source effectively starved. The screams stopped as well, leaving the shocked survivors standing amongst the crackling and singed corpses of several Quraci guardsman…

And one dead terrorist leader…The Deputy Minister swore as he servayed the damage, while J'onn finally managed to compose himself as the fires died out. Flash rushed next to him, gagging slightly at the smell of burnt flesh. His uncle's experience in a crime lab, however, quickly pushed away his discomfort.

"Heat based weapon…probably would have used a condensed beam based off the barrel. Looks like it would have packed a punch too. I can't think of many guns that's do that…You don't think…"

"That it looks a lot like what might have killed the Question?" J'onn finished for the scarlet speedster, his eyes still trained on the burnt corpse, "that was my thought exactly…"

"Get out of my country…" the Deputy Minister chocked out as he rose from his freshly formed sand crater. "I said, get the _hell_ out of my country!"

"Mr. Minister," J'onn began with an already forcefully tone, "we…"

"I don't _care_ what you have to say! You come in here, nearly allow a group of _shepherds_ to kill me, and then you're incompetence results in the death of my men!? GET! OUT!"

J'onn, his nerves already frayed, closed the distance between himself and the politician quickly, a snarl forming on his alien lips. " _Your_ country might just be at the epicenter of a JLA murder case, Mr. Minister. If you want to avoid _Batman_ coming into your country personally to collect the evidence, I would suggest you _back off_ and allow us to do it now. Understood?"

His quiet yet forceful voice sent shivers down the politician's spine. He said nothing, but backed away in recognition, allowing J'onn to turn around in barely contained frustration and disgust as he kept the Minister in his periphery vision. " _Then_ we'll gladly leave this place…"

He turned to Plastic Man and Flash, his face again bereft of emotion. "You two start collecting as much evidence as possible _as carefully_ as possible. I'll contact Batman…" he paused as his gaze fell back to the smouldering corpses around him. "I am certain that he'll want to hear about this right away…"

…

 _Batman_

…

 _ **Washington, D.C**_

This is unexpected, to say the least.

I'm standing in a dank and shadowed basement filled to the brim with notes, blinking laptops, and poster cut outs with bits of string dancing back and forth from every corner of the room. Its Vic's main storage facility, that much is certain. More importantly though, it seems as though he set this place up to act as a sort of FOB, like he moved everything of importance to this one location.

A very important location, no doubt…but why _here_?

I turned Hub City inside out looking for even the tiniest scrap of evidence. Dirtiest city on the planet, his unofficial base of operations, and yet every single safehouse was cleaned out and abandoned.

I knew Gotham was a no-go; if Question wanted to hide evidence in my city, he would have simply given it to me. Part of me wants to think of that as a compliment. The other questions the logic of considering a paranoid loner with mild sociopathic tendencies _trusting_ me anything _close_ to a compliment…

But this…this I didn't anticipate.

I managed to narrow down this location based off the distribution of his known (to me at least) safe houses; they essentially formed a ring around the nation's capital. At the exact centre lies the most decrepit neighborhood in the capital region, perfect for someone trying to stay off the radar and be forgotten. After that, it was a simple manner of researching postal codes and choosing the appropriate locations, an easy task since a certain Bruce Wayne was in town to lobby on behalf of the Wayne Foundation.

It still doesn't explain why he's… _was_ in Washington, though.

I curse myself for continually forgetting his passing. I'm sure I missed his funeral too. But that's the problem with being an obsessive detective…

I can't help but cringe at the word obsessive, but I manage to push that thought out of my head and focus on the task at hand. Prying a board off a loose, discoloured bit of wall, I find the main hard drive for Vic's computer system, no doubt hooked up completely independent of the internet and the electrical grid. It should only take me about five minutes to download his files; knowing Vic there'll be no shortage of information here. If anything, it'll take at least a week to filter through all the unnecessary evidence when I get it to the batcave. Vic may have been a world class investigator, but the problem with seeing a conspiracy everywhere is you tend to bog yourself down in useless, pointless and unconnected facts, which is a great way to pull a veil of your own making over your eyes. For a murder investigation…that's the difference between catching the killer and me loosing another two weeks sleep.

As I plug a small device into the processor, I turn to scour the rest of the room. I tap my mask lightly, setting the internal camera to take pictures automatically every few seconds. No flash; don't want to alert anyone to my presence, especially in light of what I found in his other safe houses.

Or what I _didn't_ find, to be more accurate. They were clean. Completely empty. A lot like the room I found his body in…

There are only two possible explanations; one, Vic went through and cleaned everything out, possibly moving it here. Or…the more insidious option…someone is covering their tracks. And doing a damn fine job in the process. Neither one is particularly comforting; if this is all Vic's doing, it means he knows he was being _hunted_. If whoever killed him is going on a book burning escapade, then that implies almost impossible reach.

Not something I like to think about…

It took more than a few strokes of luck on my part to find this place, so that might explain why I'm clearly the first one here. But I don't doubt in my mind that if someone out there is trying to silence the investigation, they can't be too far behind. After all, I was the one playing catch up before…

I duck underneath the bits of string lining the walls and head towards a large board situated in the middle of the room. It's filled with newspaper clippings and blurry photographs. Tones of information. It's the dates that immediately catch my attention though. Some of them are dated before the first Luthor administration…. Curious, both pictures of Luthor and Carter have multiple strings attached to them…Is that why he's in Washington? Something to do…or _had_ to do, with the Luthor government?

I step away from the board after I'm certain I have enough pictures. A flashing number in my cowl lenses tells me the download is almost complete. In the meantime, I'll collect more physical evidence. It may be mostly useless, but I'd be a rotten detective if I didn't cover every single angle.

I move towards a stack of papers situated on a near by table; hand written notes by the looks of it. Vic would have meticulously organized them by date; another one of his psychological quirks. I should be able to get a bead on when he started looking into all of this…

I reach for the bottom of the stack and pull out the last sheet of paper. Unsurprisingly, it's time stamped…

…almost a decade ago.

My god…how long has he been prying into this? _What_ has he been prying into that would require almost ten years of research? I pull out several more pieces of paper from the bottom of the stack just to be sure.

No large gaps in the dates; he's been at this consistently. Hell judging by the amount of notes stored here, he's been on a make-shift _crusade_ …no wonder he dropped off the radar.

Something else catches my attention, and sends an icy shiver down my spine in the process. He's been at this for ten years, and yet I don't see a single suspect highlighted anywhere. Any pictures of people that he's posted paint them as unwitting pawns or possibly even victims, but no conspirators. Not even his _usual_ suspects like the Illuminati or the Parent's Groups. Just questions marks everywhere.

A small beeping noise tells me that the download is complete. I move towards the hard drive in the wall, my mind swimming…

Vic may not have the resources I do to follow up all of his leads, but he'd normally be able to cipher out at least a rudimentary _sketch_ of the types of people that would likely be involved. But not here…

Someone _is_ good at covering their tracks. _Too_ good…

As I pluck the drive from the USB port, another chilling thought crosses my now fully alert mind…

If whoever these people are can hunt down the Question and yet stay in the shadows…why haven't they found this place yet?

…

…

…

Before Batman could answer his own question, a violent explosion rocked the upper floors of the abandoned building. He dove for cover as part of the roof collapsed, noticing out of the corner of his eye the billowing smoke and flickering light emanating through the basement's small window.

Batman grunted as he rose to his feet, coughing slightly as he inhaled the smoke filling the room. He cloaked his face with his cape, letting the fabric filter out the smoke particles, and then took a deep breath, filling his lungs with as much clean oxygen as he could. Pausing for only a second, he whipped out an explosive batarang, flinging it towards the wall next to the small basement window.

It exploded in an orange fireball as Batman leapt out of the path of a collapsing support beam, the spreading fire licking at his cape and boots. With a heave, he launched himself upwards towards the newly created hole and dove head first into the darkened streets, releasing his breath the moment he cleared the house. He remained squatting on the pavement, letting his built up adrenaline slowly drain from his body…

However his reprieve was brief, as he found himself staring down the barrel of an advanced looking gun wielding by a shrouded figure…

A _very_ advanced looking gun…

The figure squeezed the trigger as Batman leapt out of the way. A concentrated blast of heat shot from the barrel, singeing the end of his cape and plowing directly into the basement he had nearly been trapped in. Fire exploded outwards from the hole, nearly engulfing a near by bus stop in the process. Rolling to his feet, Batman eyed the figure with a steely glare as he brought the gun to bear on the Caped Crusaders head.

Batman wouldn't allow him another chance to fire. He arm snaked out from behind his cape, sending another batarang flying through the air. It collided with hard with the gun, sending sparks shooting out in multiple directions. The shrouded figure yelped in surprise, and then quickly hurled the gun off to the side, covering his ears and eyes in the process…

For good reason; the gun exploded merely seconds afterwards, scorching a brick wall beside the raging inferno of Question's hide out and blasting both Batman and the mystery combatant in hot air. The Dark Knight's cloak rose to his face again, shielding him from the blast as the attacker leapt further into the street, rolling away from the fiery destruction.

Thinking quickly, Batman vaulted from his crouched position and fired a bola from his utility belt. The constricting wire wrapped itself tightly around the now standing attacker, binding his arms to his side. The detective followed with a vicious haymaker, catching the befuddled assailant off guard and sending him flying backwards. Batman stood over him like a looming shadow, clenching his teeth to start a brutal round of interrogation, when the wire around the cloaked attacker's midsection snapped apart…

Batman caught the glimmer of a serrated knife as it flew by his head, just barely contorting his body enough to avoid a killing blow. The attacker seized the initiative and sprung from the ground, his fists poised for combat. Batman readied himself, studying his opponent intently with his ever analytical mind.

 _Strong form…..aggressive though. He'll attack first. Weight on the base of his feet, doesn't favor heavy hits or quick strikes…..means he's a balanced fighter. Came prepared too…not many people can cut my wires._

 _Let him strike first Bruce, gauge his speed, then move for the joints. Need to disable him, not maim….._

 _Have to ask him some questions…_

The attacker swung his leg out in a sweeping roundhouse kick, aimed solely at Batman's head. The Dark Knight deftly dodged the kick and countered with a quick jab to his knee, his fingers rigid in an attempt to burrow deep into his cartridge.

To Batman's surprise, the attacker managed to swipe the blow away with his opposite hand, and nearly connected with a punch in the process.

 _He's quick, could easily get me back peddling if I don't start pressing…_

Batman launched himself towards the other figure, his cape extending out behind him and bathing his opponent in a demonic shadow. He avoided Batman's elbow as it nearly came crashing down on his head, but was too slow for the follow up jab to his ribcage.

 _Two_ jabs, both to opposite sides of his abdomen. The attacker coughed as the air rushed out of his lungs, disorienting him long enough for Batman to deliver a powerful blow to his right shoulder. He had to cringe at the brutality, something that was becoming increasingly common to him, as the cracking noise told him that he managed to dislocate his collarbone.

Though the man didn't scream in pain, only grunt.

 _Equally curious…_

With one arm hanging loosely by his side, the man attempted to sweep Batman's legs out from under him. The detective merely leapt into the air just enough to have the kick pass harmlessly below him…

But also allow him enough time to bring his foot down _hard_ on the attacker's knee as he landed. Another sickening crack, but still no scream of pain. A quick strike to the man's head sent him tumbling backwards onto the pavement, a blow that would normally leave the opponent groggy enough to dull the excruciating pain they were in. But this mystery man seemed fully lucid, and bereft of any pain, leaving a looming, and confused, Batman to stare over his defeated opponent.

" **Who sent you?"** he growled, eager to get to the bottom of this. The man, predictably didn't answer, prompting Batman to lean in closer and snarl, the whites of his teeth illuminated by the pale moonlight.

Before he could start imploring the man for further cooperation, a haggard, coughing voice called out from behind Batman. Turning around quickly, the white slits of his cowl shot wide as a grimy, poorly dressed man hung his head out the window of the building, waving wildly and screaming for help. The raging inferno continued to claw upwards from the basement and the singed hole on the first floor, licking at the man's beard and forcing him back inside.

Without a second thought, Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out his grapple gun. Aiming it at the roof, he swung upwards towards the window, his feet out in front of him and his legs rigid. He crashed through the rotten material of the building's exterior and landed on his feet, immediately hearing a pained groan from the very structure itself. He saw the still coughing homeless man, now curled up on the floor in an attempt to shield himself from the dancing embers around him. Batman moved closer and expanded his cape around them, temporarily offering them reprieve from the fires onslaught.

"Give me your hand!" he shouted in as gentle, yet commanding, a voice as he could muster. The homeless man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He began to stammer and plead.

"P-please d-don't hurt me, I-I just, I just…"

Batman could see his reflection in the man's glossy eyes; he looked like a demon escaping hell as flames danced around his dark form. He could understand his fear of him…how he must look like some kind of monster…

 _She_ wouldn't have even had to ask him… _everyone_ inherently trusts her. For good reason…

He softened his voice further, removing any and all growling as he reached his arm forward. "Please, I need to get you out of here!"

"N-no! Stay away!" the man skidded backwards on his rear, his hand out in front of him. Beginning him to spare him…

Another groan shot through the building, the floor beginning to sway harder. He was out of options. Standing to his full height, he ripped off his cape and draped it over the man shielding him from the flames and heat with its protective material. His screaming intensified, his weak form writhing under the black material.

"O-oh god please! Don't kill me, don't kill me!"

Batman scooped the man up in his arms and leapt towards the nearest window, positioning himself so that the he would take the brunt of the fall. The pavement came quickly…and with a heavy thud they landed on the cold asphalt. Just as the building collapsed into a pile of glowing wood.

The Dark Knight groaned as he tried to shift his back, making sure nothing too important was broken. The homeless man continued to struggle and scream within Batman's cape, prompting him to quickly unfold the fabric around him. He took only one look at Batman before his eyes glossed over in terror, and he sprinted away from the hero, limping slightly on his bruised leg. Batman sighed, picking himself up from the ground with a grunt…

…only to notice that the attacker he had been grappling with was nowhere to be seen. He let out another sigh, this one tinged with an angered undertone, as he limped closer to the burning cinders of the building. His mind again swam with a deluge of thoughts.

 _That gun…looked a lot like what killed Vic based off the projectile. Its discharge was near instantaneous too, no wonder he didn't fight back…but then how was I able to dodge it? I'm not that fast….._

A thought occurred to him, which only further unsettled the detective.

 _He wasn't trying to kill me, not with the first shot. He was aiming for the basement…Question's safe house….._

 _I guess that answers the question of why they hadn't found this place yet; I was just a few minutes ahead…but whoever these people are…they're definitely doing a sweep….._

He didn't yet hear sirens, so he continued to look around, fully in detective mode yet again.

 _The weapon explodes pretty easily…not a design flaw, something that advanced wouldn't come included with a gaping hole in its operation…so it must be a failsafe. Like a cyanide pill built into the gun itself….._

That brought his attention back to the fight he had with the attacker.

 _He nearly fought on par with me, forced me to get brutal with my tactics. Extremely high resistance to pain too…I only know of a few people that well trained and disciplined…_

His thoughts were interrupted by a priority call flashing across his vision. He placed his fingers to the side of his cowl and opened up the communications channel.

" _Batman? It's J'onn. There's something in Qurac you might want to see…"_

Batman's face tensed again as he sensed the urgency in the Martian's voice. A sickly feeling settled at the bottom of his gut as he responded to the call.

"You don't say…"

…

…

…

 _ **Air Force One**_

 _ **Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean:**_

"Jessica?"

"Yes Mr. President?" The Secretary of Meta Human Affairs responded, still looking out the viewing window of the Commander In Chief's office. She was certain that she looked overly disinterested with the conversation, but ultimately she didn't care.

At least it hid her discomfort and the constant inquisitive glares she gave her so-called boss…

"You alright? You seem…uncomfortable…"

Dammit…

"I'm fine, Mr. President, just not a fan of tight spaces is all."

"Fair enough." He replied, stretching his arms out behind him. "Can't say I'm a fan of being cooped up in an airplane either."

"How did the meeting at the Watchtower go?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

"Oh, fine, it went fine." He stated. There was no falter in his voice or slight quirk to his face. So far as she could tell, he was being completely honest. "I think we all see the same picture, and at the end of the day that's good enough for me."

"I've done a bit of research on Wonder Woman's diplomatic endeavours. They're quite expansive. And equally impressive. I think I finally know why she inspired me so much to do something big with my life."

"Well I'm glad you think that, because the Secretary of State doesn't want to touch her." He caught her confused and somewhat disgusted glare, and quickly corrected himself. "Not like-no I mean that as great as she is, she's going to be a diplomatic headache sometimes, and I need you to be prepared to handle the…situations. The other departments want nothing to do with her or the JLA. Politically sensitive and all that, damn bureaucrats."

Her confused look didn't diminish, it merely increased in an attempt to hide yet another analytical glare of hers. "D-do you want me to…I don't know _talk_ to her? See if we can't lay out some ground rules or come to some sort of cooperative agreement? She's a very reasonable person, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"What?" his face lit up in shock. "God no Jessica! I mean, look as much as it would make our lives a hell of a lot easier, I don't want to dampen her enthusiasm by making it look like we need to keep her on a leash or something."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I just want to keep you informed that your job is going to be a little…more involved with the political side of globe trotting meta humans than maybe you expected."

"How so? If I may ask…"

He paused for a brief second, stroking his chin slightly. "Well for one thing, she's been a vocal critic of several allied governments for many, _many_ years. Qurac comes to mind. Speaking of which…"

The phone on his desk rang loudly, almost as if it was on cue, as an annoyed look crossed the President's face. As he picked up the receiver, his look morphed into a strained, yet highly manufactured, smile as he spoke confidently into the receiver.

"President Dabir, how are you! You want me to cut the bullshit? Well well well why don't I put us on speaker then so I can hear you better over that _noise_ in the background? Oh, that's you? Well my apologizes Mr. President."

With a roll of his eyes, he placed the receiver on his desk and flicked a switch. Suddenly, Jessica was listening to a heavily accented (and very angry) Middle Eastern dictator scream at the President like he had just shot his dog.

" _What in god's name happened Kirkpatrick!?"_

"I believe it was a JLA mission, Mr. President."

" _Cut the sarcasm you ignorant oaf, you know damn well what I'm referring too!"_

President Kirkpatrick's face didn't change. "You're talking about the JLA successfully defending you Deputy Minister, right? Hard to see what the problem is, unless you secretly wanted the guy to…"

" _I'm talking about several of my men getting killed because your superheroes are too bloody incompetent to do their jobs!"_ Jessica grimaced slightly at the feedback pouring through the speakers. This President Dabir was hardly a light speaker… _"Those were some of my best soldiers, and your imperialistic meta-humans…"_

"You called them Mr. President. It was completely _your_ decision." He rolled his eyes again as disdain started to drip from his words. "Also they're not _my_ meta-humans, the United States just so happens to treat them with respect instead of threatening to execute them when they're collecting evidence…"

" _Then why are they called the Justice League of AMERICA?!"_

"Because they can call themselves whatever they want so long, also let's not lightly brush off the fact that you threatened to execute _The Martian Manhunter._ I knew you were stupid, but that's really pushing it to a whole other level."

Jessica's jaw dropped slightly at the insult the President just hurled across international borders. Kirkpatrick remained completely stoic, if slightly annoyed, as the President of Qurac stuttered and spat on the other end of the line.

" _Did…..did y-you…..why you insolent…..we are supposed to be allies!"_

"Which doesn't preclude me from calling you out on stupid decisions. Or pointing out how hypocritical you're being. Or that your regime teeters on the precipice of a very, _very_ deep canyon if you don't watch yourself. I could get the Arab League involved in less than…"

" _Are you threatening me American?!"_

His face darkened as he hunched over his desk, his hands clasped in front of his. His voice lowered an octave or two as he seemingly snarled towards the phone. "No, Mr. President, I'm not threatening you. If I _was_ , I'd promptly remind you that you're not dealing with just some, run of the mill Western nation with varied interests in your country; you're dealing with a global hegemony. Something that could easily roll through your streets with an army that would make god himself quiver in fear, and torch every, single, house, market or office we find. And not a single nation would even dare lift a finger, not even when we're dragging your beaten corpse through the streets by your entrails."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Jessica waited intently for what came next, a mixture of nerves and intrigue coursing through her mind.

"You're an idiot. A blind, stupid idiot. But I know you're not dumb enough to force me to actually threaten you. Because I know that _you_ know, that I could wipe out your sorry excuse for a war-time concession with the press of a single, tiny, insignificant button. One push, and Qurac goes back to being nothing more than a nasty memory diplomats tell their wives over an oversized glass of scotch. And I wouldn't have to raise taxes by a single _cent_ to do it."

The man on the other end of the line gulped, while Jessica just stared. Kirkpatrick continued. "So, you're going to start doing _exactly_ what I tell you, right Mr. President? You're going to start working _for_ me instead of _against_ me?"

"Yessir."

"You're going to go home tonight, get a good night sleep, and when you walk into the office tomorrow you're going to start thinking of a lists worth of ways to make your country stable, prosperous, and above all _friendly_."

"Yessir."

"And then you're going to get your country back on track, right? You're going to actually act on these _suggestions_?"

"Yessir."

"And if you ever start talking back to me again…or deviate in any way from _my_ wishes…"

"…yes…sir?"

His snarl formed into a discrete smile. "Then if you were smart, you'd just go ahead pull the trigger of the gun at your head yourself…and save me the effort…"

He clicked the line dead, leaving him staring over his desk, his head resting on his hands. Jessica could have sworn she saw shadows start to encroach around him.

"Jessica?" she jumped as he called out to her with a low voice.

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"…make sure you're ready for this…"

* * *

 **You know what else happens when Marble starts scraping steel?**

 **It ruins the marble...just some food for thought...**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading everyone, I hope you all enjoyed it! That Kirkpatrick, such a little rascal! And who doesn't love a friendly sparring match with the local assassin right?**

 **Ahhh good times to be had in the DC Universe, bloody good times indeed!**

 **I should mention that at this point in the DCU, pre-New 52 of course (also known as "Post-Crisis" by all the cool kids), Queen Hippolyta is a) not a queen because b) the monarchy has been de-established as well as c) she's kinda, well dead. I can't remember if Donna is back or not yet, as if this was say JLA# 79 or so, it would be published around late 2004, so someone will need to double check on that for me. But, yeah, that's what J'onn meant by "rest her soul".**

 **Forgot to mention too, since I don't think anyone got the in joke about the argument Superman and Wonder Woman were having last chapter, I'll tell you to flex my ego. 38 (the floor count Superman thinks the Watchtower has) comes from his publishing date of 1938, Wonder Woman's 41 floors comes from her 1941 publishing date, and Batman's 39 comes from, well 1939. Why? Because I'm a looser...no other excuse...**

 **Anywho, see you next time! And don't forget to leave a review or a favorite or the like!**

 **It keeps me warm at night...**


	7. Chapter 6: The Bialya Connection-Part 1

**Administrative stuff first though; I'm splitting this chapter into two parts, as it very likely could have stretched into the 20,000 word area code rather quickly, ad I feel that something that long is a bit of a slog to get through. As such, and to make it a bit more "comic booky", I added a chapter name to each one in order to help distinguish which one directly connects to which. For example, the next chapter (Chapter 6-technically 7 if you count the prologue) is titled "The Bialya Connection-Part 1". Similarly, Chapter 7 will be "The Bialya Connection-Part 2" and so on and so on. This way I can make some chapters more interconnected than others without having to re-do some of the more "stand alone" ones. If that makes no sense...well I'm shitty at explaining things, so my apologies...**

 **ys, my apologies as well for the long gap in updates. I...well yeah, no I don't have much of an excuse. At all, really.**

 **But, thank you all for the reviews and favorites and the like, and I hope you enjoy what is the single longest chapter I've ever done! And it's only part one of this arc yaaaaa!**

 **Oh, and DC still owes items and such. No profit was made in the creation of this fictional situation...at least I hope it's fictional...**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6**_

" _ **The Bialya Connection-Part 1"**_

" _And he that overcometh, and keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations…."_

A newspaper swirls in the stormy breeze, fluttering and flying across the streets damn puddles. Slightly smudged from the dirt and grime of the pavement, a bolded headline stands out.

 _ **TROUBLE IN BIALYA: THE JLA UNDER FIRE….**_

 _ **The Batcave:**_

 _Question's Journal, Entry Number 5118-208-3_

 _The air in Washington stinks. Worse than usual. Like decaying carcase of a shot dog. Clouds sky, chokes off light, forces you to inhale its stench while your eyes gloss over, making you blind, complacent. Smoke and mirrors, all of it. Dancing puppets on dancing strings, smiling and waving to other crowds of dancing puppets on dancing strings. Taking bribes from even more puppets. Don't notice wire. Don't notice the fiery smelter they're dangling over. Don't see the Pale Rider at their doorstep_

 _Can't see the puppet master's cackling in the darkness._

 _Few people have the kind of power to keep this misdirection going. Fewer still would gain anything. High risk, colossal waste of resources if anything should go wrong. Don't seem to care. Makes them dangerous._

 _Narrow list. Problem is, these people are good. Cover their tracks. No,_ destroy _their tracks. No trace. Managed to tear off the curtain though. Had to bend the rules to cut through the fog, but the ends are all that matter. All that's ever mattered._

 _Don't like what I see. The names, the victims, the dead and buried ghosts that I've been running after for a decade, unrelated when looked at from a distance, when you assume there's no connection. But I sense one, like some trail of slime. Know it's there, but it's hidden. Hidden too well for just a bunch of ghosts in suits. Makes them dangerous._

 _But they're not the hunters. They're the hunted. Someone's taking them out, silencing them, removing them from the equation. Not stopping at burning the bodies, have to rip apart history, black out the slightest inkling of their existence. Predator falling to another, bigger predator. Clearly set their sights on something big._

 _And I'm in the way…_

 _They know I'm following them, trying to play catch up. No matter how far behind I might be, still too close for them. No more risks, means that the endgame will be earth shattering._

 _Also means I'm in the crosshairs. Smile fry vigilante with a dubious reputation, and yet I can still feel them clawing at my back like deranged wolf. Not scared. Not for myself. Knew the risks. No way out for me, but it doesn't matter._

 _Scared for world, for the people who dance on the wires. Scared for the moms and dads and children too stupid to know their lives hang in the balance. Try to tell myself I don't care. But I do. It matters. They matter. Want to scream that it's their fault, that they should have seen the signs. Tried harder, asked more questions. Looked at the dotted line instead of ignored it. Can't bring myself to say that. Beyond them, beyond skill and strength. Even the piles of filth that wallow in deceit…can't sully their names. This is too big, too many implications. Far too much is at stake. Makes everything seem small, fragile. Uncomfortable feeling._

 _Lived entire life thinking the world is black and white, that you reap what you sow. Not true. Never true. Final act in life should repentance, in only way I know how._

 _Justice._

 _Have to follow up lead in Rhode Island, offices of Brampton & Family. _

_Then…..have to find Batman._

 _Don't like what I see…Batman won't either…..but at least he'll see it._

…

 _Batman_

…

You're right Vic; I don't like it…

I swivel in my chair, turning my gaze to a set of side monitors. Each blinking screen holds another dissected set of notes and files, some of them down to details so tiny, so insignificant, that I can't help but groan. The throbbing pressure beating away at the inside of my skull isn't helping; nothing but a constant reminder of how long and arduous this day has been.

And it's about to get even longer…

That was his last journal entry, dated just a day before I found his body in Rhode Island. Part of me wants to curse him for refusing to come to me sooner, before the shadows he was chasing turned the tables on him. Part of me can't help but feel guilty that I didn't spot this sooner. I like to think of myself as being adept in the art of reading people, that I can discern motives and actions just by their actions alone. If that's the case, I should have seen his excessive reclusiveness for what it was; a tell-tale sign that something big was happening. I could have been there…

It's moot though. The only feeling that matters is the slab of ice sitting in my gut, sending frigid shivers coursing through my body every time I read his notes. I don't get that feeling often, not anymore, but based off what I'm seeing…

I type a command into the keyboard, and watch with unblinking eyes as the screens flash and words crawl across the screen. Question's notes line the outside monitors, while the main screen lists the names of three individuals he had been tracking. Three _dead_ individuals, to be precise.

Carl and Fredrik Brampton, relatively outstanding members of society, active members in the community, fairly large fortunes from interlocking family holdings. Nothing out of the ordinary in their immediate files. Joined by two other business partners, one of whom was a friend, Jason Clarkson. Unlike the rest of the Brampton's, he was a quiet guy. Seemed to like his little corner of the world fenced off by a white picket fence just fine. The forth owner is still alive somewhere, though if he's smart, he'll be in the deepest, most secure hole he can find and wait out whatever storms blowing over his head. Very wealthy, all of them, but not from their family company. Looking into the business expenses, I was right to be suspicious. These four had holdings in several other business ventures, most of them completely unrelated to textiles. More than likely, _Brampton & Family _was set up to be as out of the way as possible, isolated from prying eyes. My first instinct is to think they were doing something illegal, but that's not necessarily the case.

If anything, it was more like a safe house of sorts. At least if the security system is anything to go off of. But what for? Finances? Or something else…

I type another command into the computer, seeing the lights of the monitor dance in front of me again. More faces appear, each one unique, telling their own story.

 _Was_ telling their own story. The list of corpses that the Question was investigating drags on for years and involves people seemingly far past the Brampton's. All wealthy, though some border obscene amounts while others wouldn't be considered much more than upper middle class in a better economy. The only other connection I can find is that they were very active in politics; donations, galas, the usual fundraising affairs that rich donors throw to move the political sails in their direction. Some of them were actually thinking about running for office, or at the least were teasing the idea of throwing their hat in the ring.

I've tried to filter out some of the names, narrow down my search parameters. In the world of politics, death usually walks amongst the suits and briefcases like an all pervasive plague, so Vic likely picked up on more than a few unrelated killings that none the less had some politic motivation. I'll file those away for some other time; they deserve justice just as much as the rest, but I have to prioritize. So, I've run their identities through a net of sorts, limiting my scope to those with direct connections to the Brampton Family. It helped me dig deeper; less knots to untie. Might be the only reason I managed to stumble across my first lead…

The thing is, they were far more active _outside_ the usual purviews of political activity than they were _inside_ , an odd risk considering the privacy afforded to donations after Citizen's United…

Dummy corporations, false names, nothing connected to their Super PAC's except for the frequency of transfers from their accounts. But the amount of money being shifted under the table…they wanted their assurances, that much is certain. And they wanted it completely off the radar. I had to dig through enough bureaucratic red tape to sink an island, as Diana would say, twist some arms as both Bruce and Batman. Clearly something that the Question would have been incapable of with his isolated and limited resources.

I guess in its own way, it's another bluntly obvious reason to have allies you trust. I just wish I figured that out sooner…

This must be one of the connections that Vic was referring to, but its flimsy at best, reliant on pure speculation and some hacked business accounts at this point. He was so sure he saw something off here; even without all the resources I have access too there was something that plucked at the very strings of his being. I can't say he was the most personable individual I knew, but he's one of the few whose instincts I trusted implicitly. He kept coming back to it over and over and _over_ again in his notes, talking about some trail he picked up right before he…

I can't even begin to list the number of things wrong here, with this journal entry, with Vic's murder…but it reaches far deeper than just the statistics of the dead and the words scrabbled onto loose paper. Vic was a strict Objectivist, a heartless bastard even by the cruelest politician's standards. If you were hurt, it was your own damn fault. That's how he lived his life, the frame from which he saw the world. He was motivated by a sense of black and white justice that even _I_ thought could encroach on extreme. And yet here he was, almost completely back tracking on the personal philosophy he spent his life _embodying_.

Fear is a powerful motivator, I know that first hand. The fact that Vic was frightened by what he was uncovering may be one of the most unnerving things I've ever had to consider…

But it's completely understandable.

It's the worst type of fear, the one I confront every day. The fear that you've missed something, or taken the wrong step, or you're out of your league. That little, gnawing uncertainty in your gut telling you that you've made a mistake, or a miscalculation, and that you're no longer in control. That _someone, somewhere,_ is going to die, all because you failed to keep the walls standing against an apathetic, all-powerful universe, and now it's suffocating the life out of everything you knew and loved.

For someone who doesn't confront that every day they draw breathe, it'd most likely do more than just change your outlook. I should know, I've been there, and it took someone very powerful to start pulling me back out.

And now this investigation looks like it's trying to drag me back in…back into a darkness that projects outwards like the visage of a demon in a frightened man's eye. There's a question wallowing in the mists, a personal one, one that I've been avoiding for most of my life.

I finally have an emotional rock to lean on, a beacon of light to run towards. Question is; am I strong enough to pull free of the shadows? Better yet, _should_ I?

I take one wayward look at the small clock situated in the corner of the computer. He's late…I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on him, not after today, but unlike most nights, I have plans.

And if he makes me reschedule again, there's no amount of solar energy is going to keep me from…

A shrill ringing interrupts my internal threat, drawing me back to the main monitor. Silently, I click at the keys, and find myself staring at two interposed images of Superman and The Martian Manhunter. True to form, Clark speaks first.

" _Sorry for the delay Batman, just a few logistical issues we had to sort out."_

"How's Kyle?" I ask with a neutral voice.

" _Sore,"_ Clark replies, _"but he'll live. I think he's more surprised at you than anything else."_

"He shouldn't get used to it."

Clark chuckles while J'onn remains stoic. A detective himself, it's not surprising that he'd be keen on getting to the bottom of this case as quickly as possible, the fewer detours the better. Especially since his eyes were the first to land on the latest bit of evidence…something that even has me on edge.

Unless you wear a permanent grin, that's really hard to do.

" _Did you find anything of interest from the body?"_ J'onn asks, a slight hint of impatience in his voice. Ever the stone-faced hero, he hides his emotions well.

He's a kindred spirit in many ways…

"A few things since I managed to actually get an uninterrupted look at it."

" _Sorry about that Bruce."_ Clark comments with genuine sincerity _, "we just figured that…"_

"It's fine, I wasn't complaining. Just stating a fact."

" _Please continue, Batman."_ J'onn prods, again trying to belay any sense of urgency. What he saw has definitely struck a chord with him…but again, I can understand why.

More than likely, he's thinking about the worst case scenarios just as much as I am.

I pull up a censored view of the dead militant's body, several of his limbs highlighted and filled with notes. The image is repeated on the monitor up on the Watchtower, where J'onn and Clark are currently waiting out today's fallout.

I clear my throat and begin, starting with the bodies personal details. "Al-Halib Zahir. Thirty One year old from the capital region, college educated, bit of a rebellious streak, though like anyone in Qurac that's was subdued during both regimes. He was under watch from the Royal Guard for writing papers that seemed to advocate for the abolishment of the monarchy, though that was rendered moot when Cheshire destroyed the city…"

" _Did he lose any family?"_ J'onn asked, his line of thinking likely slanting towards potential grudges or motives.

"No, his father disowned him when he was finishing up university, though that was likely for security reasons. He didn't have many ties to the country beyond an underlying sense of patriotism and a fan of Voltaire's ideal liberal society. It's probably why he joined the militants after graduation; though it's possible they recruited him due to his reputation and background."

Sifting through a series of loose files on my desk, I pull up a sheet of paper dotted with red ink and interconnected lines. His psych profile, with every little quirk I could find highlighted twice over. "One thing that doesn't make sense, though, is his behaviour after he was caught. When he tried to attack you J'onn. No previous know instances of mental instability, no known psychological disorders. All in all, he seems… _seemed_ normal save for an obsession with the inner workings of his government."

J'onn was puzzled. Clearly, this wasn't the type of answer he was expecting from me. _"I still don't understand, he was almost…_ animalistic _when he attacked, far from what you would expect from someone who could coordinate an attack with advanced weaponry on JLA members…"_

" _Parasite sounded…_ similar _…to what you're describing, I mean. He's never been the most articulate kind of guy but…"_

I considered all of this when I was analyzing his brain tissue. Found no abnormalities, no devices buried away in the brains crevices, no altering of his neural-chemicals, so far as my sensitive devices could detect. It was normal save for some trauma it clearly experienced in the various fights Zahir had been in. I know the answer, but I'll ask anyways…

"J'onn, did you think mind control might be in play?"

He shakes his head dejectedly. He obviously had been considering the same possibility…and was dreading leaving us in the dark.

" _No, I would have sensed it almost immediately."_

" _Me too."_ Clark adds. _"Ever since the White Martian attack I make it my business to check in with the 7 hz frequency wavelength periodically_. Especially _when super villains are attacking. Just to be safe."_

"And?"

" _Nothing out of the ordinary."_

I don't like the implications of that, of being lost for answers. Not when something so global is happening right under my nose, right in the shadows.

I used to think I was the master of the darkness. Apparently, I'm jostling with a roommate I never knew existed…

"I'm at a loss. I can think of several explanations _individually_ , but clearly there's a link I'm missing…unless Parasite was secretly recruited by these militants too…"

" _Any idea who these guys are?"_ Clark added.

I lie back in my chair and type a few commands into the computer, bringing up a separate screen next to the superimposed body. "Couldn't nail down an official name, but they're dedicated to an overthrow of any oppressive government in Qurac, be it a military dictatorship backed by the west, or an absolute monarchy with ties to a global terrorist network."

J'onn scratched his chin. I can see his mind churning behind his steely red eyes. _"So no overt hatred towards the West?"_

"None. They operate strictly on a domestic scale. They're not Al Qaeda or something along those lines."

" _Somehow that doesn't make me feel better."_ Clark adds, slouching back in his own chair. _"I'm getting the feeling that this stretches beyond the borders of some tiny country."_

He's on to something. The fact that his autopsy reports are right next to the Question's proves that much.

"I don't know if there's an international incident in the making, Clark. But it's connected to the murder investigation, and that alone is serious enough to warrant concern. And after everything that happened yesterday, and everything that's _sure_ to happen once Diana's settled the fallout enough, we should consider _anything_ happening in that region to be highly suspicious."

" _How so?"_ he asks, more with a shade of unease than disbelief. I reach over the touch pad and highlight the burn marks lining the body, specifically on his hands, where the fires that eventually killed him originated.

"J'onn was right to think that this Zahir's death was related to Vic's; the tissue damage is far more extensive, but an analysis of internal tissue and muscle layers reveals the same heat signature and damage output. For a conventional weapon, that wouldn't mean much since it's the projectile more than the actual gun that determines damage output, with exceptions, but for something so advanced as to weaponized heat, it's pretty easy to make a connection."

I could tell them about my run in with the assassin in Washington as well, how the weapon exploded after I struck it with a batarang and it coated the nearest wall in the same scorch marks found on the terrorist. How he was aiming for Vic's notes when he took the first shot. I could tell them all of this, make sure they know that I have no doubt in my mind that the events are related.

But I don't.

We've got enough to worry about right now, not least of which is a very angry, and often hostile, nation breathing down our necks…

"Same temperature, same type of projectile, and considering how the one that took out Vic would have to be extremely advanced to leave nothing more than an exit wound, I can bet that your description of the weapon fits the bill."

" _Still doesn't explain why Zahir's gun decided to ignite half the area on him though."_ Superman stated, his reporter instincts trying to burrow deeper into my reasoning. I'll have to maneuver around them…and hope J'onn isn't overly curious.

"Kill switch most likely. Built into the gun to silence whoever's wielding it."

" _How can you be sure?"_

I try my best to hide a scowl in the shadows around me. "Isn't it obvious?"

" _This likely means that these militants were sent to attack the target for reasons beyond their rebellion then. Whether or not they were aware of it remains to be seen."_ J'onn interrupts, quickly silencing whatever Clark was about to say. I almost let down my mental barriers and thank him from several thousand feet away…Clark none the less drops the point quickly and responds with his own theory.

" _I suppose that makes sense; I doubt anyone in that region could afford weapons like that. They'd have to be provided by some unknown party."_

I nod. "It was damn convenient that the JLA just so happened to be in the same country as a guy with this type of weapon, and I don't believe in coincidence…"

" _Especially after what just went down?"_

"Yes."

" _You think whoever's behind this is sloppy?"_

I wish Clark…I seriously wish that was the answer. As it is, I can only shake my head grimly.

"No, I think they know that we'd be following their trail almost immediately, and they're not wasting resources trying to cover up connections they know I'd eventually make…or they want us on their trail in the first place. Whoever these guys are, they're many things, but _sloppy_ isn't one of them."

They've managed to stay ten steps ahead of both myself and the Question…and they're using assassins who can fight me to a standstill with weaponry that would make Booster Gold blush.

They're not sloppy, if anything this might be the most well organized operation I've ever come across.

And I can't think of a single dammed person who might be able to pull this off…

I can see Clark's gaze narrow again as the skeptical reporter begins to emerge. _"But how can you know that for sure? It sounds like speculation at this point."_

" _I wonder that myself."_ J'onn adds, no longer willing to speed the conversation along.

I could tell them all that I know…

But I won't. Why?

Because I'm goddamn stubborn. That much is becoming increasingly clear…

"I have my reasons." Is all I can muster as a reply, still stoic and blanketed in shadows while they stare at me through a brightly lit screen. The contrast is duly noted. Clark isn't impressed.

" _How far am I going to have to push you this time? Or are you just going to hang up before I…"_

"I'm not going to hang up, but I'm going to interrupt. _Forcefully_ if necessary." I'm looking at the clock again, noting the time. The silent sensor near the entrance of the cave is already picking up a heat signature soaring through the caverns.

Punctual as usual. Not that I'm complaining…

"I'm expecting an important guest. I'll send off my full report to the Watchtower when I'm done. Batman out." Without saying anything further, the link is severed. Just as I feel a slight gust of wind behind me, and the soft clap of boots lightly hitting the floor of the cave. I turn around in my chair…

…and greet my guest with a discrete smirk that only she can coax out of me.

"Rough day, Princess?"

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

 _ **United Nations General Assembly Building, New York:**_

 _ **Several Hours Earlier**_

I am trying to think of an appropriate analogy as I stare back at the fifteen faces glaring daggers at me, something to describe the sensation of seeing the entirety of the United Nations Security Council view you as an unexploded bomb or a veil disease threatening to sweep across the continents. I am neither; in fact, despite all toilsome day the JLA was just subjected to (the first of many, I must remind myself), I am calm, cool, and collected.

 _They_ on the other hand, most certainly are _not_. Though I suppose I can't blame them, I'm dreading the inevitable misunderstandings or baseless accusations that are sure to start flying once the first diplomat opens their mouth. _Especially_ amongst the permanent members; it doesn't take a degree in Political Science to know that they're more often than not the cause of the UN's legendary impotence.

In a way, that makes them more dangerous than their nuclear arsenals _combined_. Petty disagreements and grudges can sink entire nations by simple inaction alone.

Considering how the council is grasping for a scapegoat, I suppose an adequate comparison would be the trial of Socrates, where the most powerful organization in the international arena stands in for the prying eyes of the Gentlemen of Athens, and one very incised, very aggressive nation of Bialya plays the part of Meletus.

Though, glancing over at Secretary Hill, her face equally calm, I can't help but feel I have the one thing Socrates always lacked; an ally. Athena knows that I don't get that feeling from anywhere else in Washington…

And I can't quite place why _she_ , the Secretary of Meta Human Affairs, is here instead of America's UN Ambassador… _not_ that I'm complaining, of course.

Unsurprisingly, the representative from Russia is the first to speak. His voice is elevated and shrill, and his face reminds me of a bulldog, guarding his patch of lawn with little loyalty that is both admirable and increasingly infuriating.

It makes me miss the _Fifty Foot Terminator_ from earlier, as Wally called it…

"Do you wish to _explain_ your actions, Wonder Woman?" his finger raises accusingly, already primed for a conflict before I can even begin to speak.

"I don't believe they _require_ any explanation, Mister Ambassador." I retort, keeping the blunt edge of my words as best that I can. It does little to pacify him.

"Oh, you don't think of us as _worthy_ , hmm? Are we just slabs of mortal meat dancing around the whims of you _gods_? Can't spare us even an _inkling_ of an…"

"Settle down Oleg." Secretary Hill interrupts, much to my pleasure. "This is the General Assembly Building, not the Bolshoi."

He snarls in her direction while I stifle a smile, quickly interjecting so to prevent a re-emergence of the Cold War for the second time this afternoon…

"You misunderstand, Mister Ambassador, I merely wish to ensure that we do not waste what would otherwise be valuable time."

"Do not get _snide_ with us, Amazon! We're in no mood to be talked down to by…"

I wish that I didn't have to constantly explain to the population at large that I'm _never_ talking down to _anyone_ , nor would I attempt to aggravate already hostile politicians with a brazen attitude. Whether they believe it or not, I view myself as simply one of them, and as much as I wish I could call them out on having skulls thicker than the earth's crust, I'm far better at controlling my impulses than my younger, more verbose self ever was.

 _Mostly._

Regardless, I can tell that the Federation is merely attempting to puff out its chest in front of the newly global JLA, trying to prove that they won't be intimidated by some imagined slight on the part of the West.

The fact that they've long considered Bialya a close ally certainly doesn't help their mood…

Instead of suffering further at the hands of political posturing, I interrupt, taking care to not push the forcefulness of my voice too far…

But also to make sure the Ambassador knows to _back off_.

" _Neither_ am I, Ambassador Kruschenko. If you would let me _finish_ , I think you would have realized that _yourself_."

"The fact remains that the JLA was merely responding to a sanctioned emergency." Secretary Hill pitches in. "I hardly see why the council feels the need to waste money on a full on inquiry…..."

"Especially since the matter is far from settled." The Angolian Ambassador adds. I can't help but smile; seeing the country start to finally turn itself around from the Civil War that plagued its people warms my heart. I look forward to reading progress reports from my sisters stationed there every time the pass my desk.

One of the sadly _few_ victories in my quest for peace…

Hmm, great. Now I'm starting to sound like Bruce. I must need a vacation…

"I would hope that the matter is _very_ settled." Argues the Chinese Ambassador. " _Permanently_."

Yes…a vacation would be lovely…

Kruschenko attempts to seize the initiative, building off his allies comment in order to give the impression of a coherent power bloc, when everyone seated at the table knows otherwise…

"Whether or not they were invited into Bialya is _irrelevant_. What _matters_ is that they acted in _complete_ disregard of their mission parameters and caused _irreparable_ harm…"

"Oleg! Remember what I said about being overly dramatic…" Secretary Hill interrupts again, drawing out a string of vitriolic swears from the now irate Russian. I can see Ambassador Yeng out of the corner of my eye immediately come to his defense.

"The point is that the JLA went beyond the agreed upon limitations in their Charter, and Bialya paid the price…"

Completely untrue, and these to _distinguished_ gentlemen are well aware of that…

I'm really starting to dislike political posturing…

"Section 23, subsection 19(a) clearly allows for remedial action in the event any party, host or otherwise, becomes hostile to innocents or any otherwise unengaged personal _directly_. We were fully within our rights to act."

"Says you!" Oleg barks, his fist poised to start launching a flurry of punches at the nearest unlucky body. I can see all semblance of self control fully evaporating from his body. Again, the cooler head of his partner comes to aid what would surely be Russia's most embarrassing diplomatic misstep since the Korean War.

"Why should we trust only your _word_? While you may claim to be the goddess of truth…"

"I've said no such thing." Not in many, _many_ years at least. Not since I was dead…

I'm not sure I like how I was able to say that without a second thought…

"But you must understand that we require some form of evidence, yes?"

I make no move to cover the loud sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm starting to feel my _own_ self control dissipate…

Though I can't tell if it's because of the argument in front of me, or the one that occurred during the day in question…

I could probably teach a law class with the amount of arguing I'm forced to do…

I reach into my Golden Girdle and remove a small holoprojector. Placing it lightly in the middle of the floor, I step back and cross my arms.

"A certain _teammate_ figured you might say something along those lines. I admit, I was hoping you'd be able to prove him wrong…"

…

…

…

 _ **The Watchtower:**_

 _ **One Day Earlier**_

"We're not going." Batman stated with defiance, the white slits of his cowl staring down the other members of the league with increasing force. The beams of light that danced around the metallic halls shifted around his shaded form, as if his very presence would eradicate them from existence. Despite all the gods and monsters the league had come across, the mortal man that sat at the chair closest to the conference room's exit always managed to send chills down their spine by mere appearance alone.

That is, except, for one very specific member of the league, who had managed to create an immunity to Batman's imposing visage that would surely make the entirety of his rogues gallery green with envy…

"You _agreed_ to this initiative Batman." Wonder Woman stated, her own bright colours battling against the shadows seated next to her, "We're duty bound to act when called upon."

"I can list on _both_ hands the number of ways this could go wrong in the first _five minutes_ alone. Caution doesn't equal cowardice, Diana…"

Superman, being one of the rare individuals in both heaven and earth willing to stand between the two of them when they fought, rose in his seat slightly. "She wasn't implying…"

"I _wasn't_ implying that Batman. But abandoning them in their time of need _is not_ the same thing as caution."

Across the table, Green Lantern shifted in his seat, tugging at the colour of his will-power created suit. "I don't really think we're abandoning…"

"We're _not_ abandoning them," Batman interrupted forcefully, "we're refusing to play border guard for a politically tumultuous nation with a long history of meta-human related violence!"

It was the Flash's turn to raise his hand, meekly, in order to inject some brevity into the increasingly tense situation. "Well Batman, I mean…Queen Bee hasn't been in power for…"

"I'm well aware of all that," Wonder Woman was now fully standing, her hands gripping the edge of the table, "what I'm saying is that none of it matters when innocents are potentially in danger! We have to take the risk; it would be shameful not to!"

Plastic Man, having turned his attention from the black void outside the window when the argument started, was poised to offer his own opinion on the complex nature of international geopolitics, a smug look firmly plastered on his face, when J'onn telepathically reached out towards him.

 _Keep it to yourself O'Brian. I rather fancy having the moon in orbit where it is….._

He audibly gulped as the argument raged on uninterrupted, Batman having now risen to his full, imposing height. "We'll be walking into a minefield Diana."

"You exaggerate…"

A very visible snarl formed just below the lip of Batman's mask, his carefully honed sense of composure being grated at from what he could only classify as an _unstoppable force_. "No, I _under_ exaggerate! Most people wouldn't start laying mines over the world's single largest deposit of _natural gas_! If you can't see the potential for this to go nuclear _quickly_ …"

"Do you really think so little of our abilities that we won't be able to prevent that from happening?" Diana retorted, anger dripping from every word. Batman, similarly, remained seething.

"I'd sooner trust the Scarecrow than the Biaylian government, and that's not even factoring in the possibility of Quraci military, yet _another_ national army with ingrained corruption problems, getting involved!"

"So you prefer to weaken our standing with other nations by picking who we help and who we don't? Can you not see the problem with that?"

"Can _you_ not see the problem with…"

"You've already stated _multiple times….."_

"Can you not…"

"Batman, simply repeating yourself…"

"Will you let me finish Diana!?"

Plastic Man, now having morphed into a young freckled boy, looked pleadingly at J'onn from across the table. "Unky J'onn. Are dey gonna get a divorce?" The Martian, however, looked unamused.

"Plastic Man, please…"

The cacophony of noise ceased as a loud crashing noise caught their attention. All six heads shifted towards Superman and his now uprooted chair, his face contorted in a mixture of annoyance and exasperation.

"Quiet! Please for the love of god, this bickering is giving me an aneurism! Can we all just. Be. _Quiet_!?" he bellowed, his fists shaking just above the table. He glanced over at Plastic Man. "You too O'Brian…"

The plastic hero curled into a fetal position, letting out another loud gulp in the process. Superman, now slightly calmer turned his attention back to the two warring heroes beside him. "Look, both of you, I understand that…" he paused, having noticed that both of them had stopped shouting and were merely staring at one another, their faces frozen into equally intense glares. Slowly, the softened, shifting back into more neutral positions. Then, out of the blue, Wonder Woman began to smile.

Shortly after, Batman spoke up.

"The heavy hitters will have to hang back, make sure we don't spook them on approach. You'll need to head in first and try to get each side talking almost immediately. If not, this _will_ go south. _Quickly_."

The rest of the League looked at Batman with befuddled stares, while Diana merely took each tactical suggestion in stride. "And where will you be?"

"Coordinating from the cave; I still need to sort through some of the Question's files. Especially since it might play into what you're about to do. Depends on how active the Quraci populous plans to be."

The flabbergasted looks on the League's faces only increased. Ignoring everyone save for the Amazonian in front of him, Batman reached into his utility belt. "One more thing, you're taking _this_ with you."

"What is it?" she asked, holding a smooth, circular object in her hands. The fluorescent lights glistened off its polished surface, fully illuminating the blue and black of Batman's costume.

"It's a recording device fitted with a holographic projector. It'll record every action you take down there and play it back on command."

Diana's brow furrowed slightly, prompting another response from Batman. "Call it Plausible Deniability."

Her smile increased ever so slightly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at this point."

"Someone has to counter your unbridled idealism Princess," he replies with a discrete smirk. The Dark Knight spins on his heel and motions towards the room's exit, his cape billowing out behind him. Before he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder, catching one last look at his Amazonian teammate before leaving. "Might as well be me…"

The doors close with an echoing whoosh as Diana, still smiling, playfully tosses the device in the air. She turns her head back towards the rest of the now silent room as she catches it in her open palm…

…only to be met by blank stares and inquisitive faces. Kyle, having now recovered from the hurricane of a debate that had nearly threatened to destabilize the station's lunar orbit, was the first to speak up.

"Alright…someone want to explain to me what just happened? Because I'm lost…"

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

"So you don't trust us, that's what you're implying?" Ambassador Kruschenko growls in my direction, still far from calm. Judging from the slight tremors coursing through my body, he may be rubbing off on the crowd…

"Batman felt that it was a necessary precaution. Whether or not that mirrors the Justice League's opinion of your honesty is a separate issue." I _could_ mention that I wouldn't have even brought up the projector if they weren't vindicating Batman's paranoia, but I don't.

A wise warrior picks their battles. The same goes for a diplomat.

"An issue that doesn't need to be brought up now." Secretary Hill adds quickly. I can easily read the subtext behind her words; _or ever_.

I can only hope that's the case…

The French Ambassador, a quiet woman with a very neutral personality, speaks up for the first time. Very timidly, I must add, reminiscent of all the brief conversations I've had with her over the years.

"I don't…I don't quite understand why we're here. Still. So far as I…and I believe a few others, can tell, you were merely responding to…well to a hostile force."

This innocent comment appeared to light a fire underneath Ambassador Kruschenko's seat, as he leapt into the air with flailing arms like some sort of comically jack in the box. I almost snickered at the sight, really.

"Lies! Damn lies and…"

"Oleg for Christ sake!" Jessica Hill bellows, increasingly exasperated in her own right. "I don't want to have to call you an ambulance again!"

"He is not wrong though!" interjects the Chinese Ambassador, placing a hand on Oleg's nearly convulsing shoulder. "That is _not_ what…"

"They are half right, I'm afraid." I interrupt, looking apologetically at the French Ambassador caught in the crossfire. "Qurac and Bialya have been engaged in small scale border skirmishes over undecided territory for almost two decades, to the point where both nations have built rather large settlements directly on the disputed land that practically face one another. The Bialyan military recently made another push to consolidate their territory, so the Quraci government petitioned us to step in as moderators. Strictly to prevent any further bloodshed."

"So you _admit_ that you overstepped your boundaries then!"

I can't help but sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose yet again at Oleg's increasingly off base remarks. But I must respond, and respond _well_ , in order to avoid exacerbating the problem any further.

I fear that I'm in one of _those_ diplomatic meetings where every sentence said and unsaid carries the risk of igniting a war.

Sometimes I wish my job was only about punching monsters…

"You'll recall my previous comment about taking action when innocent lives are threatened, Mister Ambassador. Do you want me to go over the agreed upon operating Charter yet again?" I should have tried to contain the snark from seeping into my voice, but I can feel my temper getting shorter with each passing minute. Perhaps I should have requested an hour or two to compose myself instead of flying directly here after the League's little adventure.

I'm sure the janitor could have done without all the mud and sand I tracked in…

"Please explain to me how we went from simply brokering a ceasefire to having two entire towns nearly wiped off the map, Wonder Woman." Ambassador Yeng asks in place of Oleg in a much calmer, yet equally accusatory, way. "I fail to see the connection."

"Really?" Secretary Hill blurts out incredulously, " _you_ fail to see the connection? Did you forget about how your little gift managed to…?"

"Secretary Hill, please." I interrupt, my hand held up to stifle any objections. As much as my own feelings mirror hers, I have to keep this meeting from getting any more hostile lest the situation spiral completely out of control. Instead, I palm the holographic projector and walk closer to the series of podiums laid out in front of me. Placing the small device on the floor, I step back, and soon enough the room is bathed in artificial light as a high definition recreation of the Bialyan border region materializes in front of the fifteen member council. I step through the projection and address the stunned diplomats.

"Everything you're about to see can be corroborated by satellite and eye witness accounts, so there's no need to accuse any of this of being doctored." Remembering Batman's description of it being voice activated, I give one last address before allowing the recording to play out our story.

"I'll show you _exactly_ what happened."

And perhaps you'll all learn a thing or two…

…

…

…

The Justice League, sans Batman and Wonder Woman, perched themselves on the roof of an old Mosque on the Quracian side of the border, staring out over the sand-washed streets with attentive eyes. Before them stretch two nearly identical towns separated by a thin, barren line and an imposing, fully armed fence…

And at least three dozen divisions of soldiers from either of the bordering countries militaries, posed for conflict with weapons drawn, standing tense like stone statues. Somewhere in the throngs of the camouflaged soldiers and tanks stood Wonder Woman, her visage completely covered by the forest of military colours, each representing a man or woman fully prepared and ready to open fire at as little as a misspoken word or a misinterpreted gesture.

Not a single member of the League envied her…

High above them, a small, nondescript device hovered in the concealing haze, it's internal mechanics buzzing rapidly as it took in every and all bits of information that passed into its circuits. The beating rays of the sun glistened off its sleek material, while closer to the ground the unforgiving rays cooked the group and the roof they stood on. A hot breeze whipped sharp beads onto any exposed skin, and shrouded them and their surroundings in a filter of brown, as if it was some old western movie. Those with invulnerable skin were completely unaffected, only breaking their gaze from the scene in front of them to check in with Batman back in the Batcave.

Those like Plastic Man, however, were melting in the heat. Literally…

"Have we resorted to cannibalism yet? Because I feel like we're on our death beds here…"

"Meh, I'm feelin' fine." Kyle responded from within his enclosed bubble, complete with a glowing green air conditioning unit. Plastic Man could only scoff.

"Well jee, that makes _me_ feel better…"

"Do you think she can pull this off?" Superman asked into his ear piece, his telescopic vision trained on Wonder Woman. She was standing stoically in front of the ranking officer of the Bialyan contingent, apparently reassuring her that the appropriate authorities would be there soon.

" _She'll be fine, she's Wonder Woman."_ Batman replied from half a world away.

"Quite the task ahead of her though. This conflict might as well be considered ancient."

" _She's been through worse."_

Superman smirked at the short response, fully ready to push his friend's buttons until something happened. "You're very talkative. Still mad that you lost?"

" _No, I'm just busy dissecting a medium rare militant and this nosey reporter won't leave me alone."_

"Heh, that was almost a joke. You sure you're feeling alright?"

" _Must be the fumes."_ Came Batman's curt reply, drawing yet another chuckle from the Man of Steel. Wally, who had been tapping his fingers impatiently on the ground, rose from the lotus position and stood next to Superman.

"Care to give a play-by-play? I'm getting bored out here."

"She's still waiting for the General to arrive, though the officer that she's talking to is _very_ apologetic." J'onn answered for Superman, his face as neutral as ever. "I think he might be trying to flirt with her…"

"Batman's gonna be jealous…" Kyle sang, fully confident that there was no way The Caped Crusader could inflict harm on him from this far away. Wally remained impatient, tapping his foot rapidly with a blur of red and yellow.

"Why exactly did Bats cut out all radio communication anyways? Kinda leaving us in the dark, isn't it?"

" _The answer should be obvious, Wally."_ Another curt reply from Batman managed to ghost its way into his ear. Wally cursed the all pervasive communications system Batman had installed while Kyle rose from his bubble, his arms stretching out into the hot desert air.

"Would you want someone talking to your bomb disposal expert on the job?" he asked the speedster with a yawn.

" _Very good Kyle."_ Batman responded with a light, sarcastic tone. Kyle returned the comment with a smirk.

"Heh, thanks Bats."

" _I can still here everything you say, though."_

"Gulp…"

"Hold on," Superman interjected before anymore vague threats could be delivered, "looks like something's happening…"

A mile and a half away, Wonder Woman straightened her posture as a man sporting a tan jacket overflowing with medals approached her. With her enhanced hearing, she could hear the Quracian troops behind her tense and murmur uncomfortably amongst themselves. If she wasn't aware of the great General Tuzik's reputation already, that would have been the first clue that the man held enormous amounts of power in the region.

And _fear_ most importantly…

"Ah, on the heels of your victory in the UN, I am to become the first casualty to a new wave of Western imperialism yes?" he states with a regal attitude befitting of a man made entirely of ego. "I am so pleased to see that it is _you_ they have chained to the proverbial stove this time."

"An excellent way to start the negotiations, General Tuzik. I was almost afraid you'd become personable in your old age." Wonder Woman replies, a small smirk forming on her lips. If she is to be entirely honest with herself, she anticipatesactually _enjoying_ this.

From the look on General Tuzik's face, the same could likely be said of him.

"No, I merely wish to inform you of the futility of this exercise. It is a courtesy I rarely extend, especially to those standing on my soil on purely illegal grounds."

"My presence is sanctioned by the United Nations, General. _Yours_ on the other hand violates almost every known treatise on national sovereignty in existence."

The General takes the retort in stride, motioning to a lanky officer behind him with a single motion with his arm. Taking a small envelope from the man, he waves it gloatingly in front of the Amazonian diplomat.

"This document would argue otherwise. These Quracian nationals are trespassing on what is historically Bailyan land. It is _they_ who are violating the international laws that we all hold so dear…" he nearly sneers at the last spoken words, tempting the woman in front of him to lash out.

She, however, is more than prepared for the challenge.

"That wouldn't happen to be the very same document written by a now discredited Professor Wariz Janson, would it? I'm afraid it won't hold much weight in the World Court."

"Ah but I'm sure you'll find recent revisions to more than vindicate the poor Doctors reputation _and_ his work."

"Unless they're validated by a neutral committee, it might as well be your grocery list."

"Surly you're not naïve enough to believe that neutrality can possibly exist in international politics?"

"No, I most certainly am not. That's why I know your _document_ is about as trustworthy as the _National Inquirer_." Her smile grows brighter as the General's face falls, his mind finally processing the fact that he can't worm around his opponent. Still pressing the initiative, Wonder Woman continued. "We can do this all day, General, so in the interest of time, why don't we lay down our arms, send the troops home, and you and I can have at it _far away_ from any towns filled with innocents. I don't know about you, but I would prefer that no one dies today."

He scoffs, holding his chest pocket as it continues to sag from the weight of the medals adorning it. "I'm offended that you would think I don't value the lives of my men, Wonder Woman. And I'm even more offended that you think I'd so willing damage their pride by sending them home with their tails in between their legs."

"Don't you think that the outcome, should we come to blows, would be _far_ worse for their reputation, General?"

He eyed her incredulously. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Should any of you attack even a single Quraci soldier or bomb even the tiniest Quraci shop, we're under direct orders, enforced through our UN sanctioned Charter, to engage _you_ and your men in order to protect the lives of the people who called us here."

"You mean the best _interests_ of the people who hold your leash…"

"We are only here to protect innocent lives; the Justice League has no position on you or your government's actions in the region besides that they could potentially ignite a violent border conflict."

His sneer returned. "But _you_ do have a position, don't you?"

"I _do_ General, and I'm sure you know that I've _very_ vocal about it. But just like how _your_ view on your states religion doesn't reflect the opinions of your government," she retorted, her hands placed defiantly on her hips, "mine do not cross with the inherent neutrality of the Justice League. If you find yourself at odds with us, it's only because you threaten the lives of men, women and children whose only crime is that they struggle daily in nations burdened by war, famine and disease. _Not_ because of political subterfuge."

The General did not respond, only glancing around at the city behind the Amazon. A city that looked very much like the one situated behind his own troops…

Wonder Woman held out her hand in a gesture of peace, pleading with compassionate eyes for him to ignore all sense of bravado and take it. "I am more than willing to hear out any grievance you may have General, and need that your people may be lacking. But violence will only drown out your people's cries in rivers of blood and carnage. Carnage that _can_ and _should_ be prevented. So please, General, I urge you to lay down your arms, and take up the path of peace. For your people's sake, and your own…"

He was silent, strikingly so. The men behind him had never seen someone manage to talk down their fiery commander. Some mumbled disjointed sentences of awe, while others couldn't help but openly wish that their commanding officer take up his offer. After a few more tense seconds that hung over the crowds like a suffocating blanket, the General clicked the heels of his boots together, and motioned for the officer to return to his side.

"Captain, please inform the capital that…"

Before he could finish, the skull of the Captain burst open in a shower of blood and gore, spilling sickly crimson onto both the General and Wonder Woman. Both of their faces dropped in shock and horror as the lifeless body tumbled to the sands below.

They didn't even hear the shot, though the piercing scream of agony from a near by Bialyan soldier unlucky enough to have had his leg in the bullet's flight path pointed to the existence of a shooter…somewhere.

The General wiped chunks of brain off his bearded face before turning back towards Wonder Woman, his skin more red from searing rage than the blood of his assistant.

He growled, confirming for the Amazonian Ambassador that negotiations were officially over.

" _You WITCH!"_

…

 _Wonder Woman_

…

"As you can see, some unknown shooter was the cause of the diplomatic break down at the frontlines." I state, pointing at the highlighted bullet trail Batman plotted out. Inwardly, I shiver slightly at seeing the young Captain's body collapse into a pool of his own gore. I can't help but repeat over and over in my head that I could have done more, could have, or should have, realized that our presence would entice something like this. No matter how much Bruce assured me otherwise, I feel a stinging sensation of guilt in my gut.

But I push that aside and stand as regally as I can in front of the eyes of the Security Council, their eyes still burrowing into mine.

Especially the eyes of the seething Russian Ambassador…

"How utterly convenient that the _warrior Princess_ has suddenly shunned killing…"

Oh good, my absolute _favorite_ misconception…

"I have a very specific rule that I follow, Mister Ambassador, something that I've solemnly sworn to never break. _Don't kill if you can wound, don't wound if you can subdue, don't subdue if you can pacify, and don't raise your hand at all until you've first extended it_."

And failing that, if they truly refuse to listen to reason, don't be afraid to show them what millennia of Amazonian training can do to an overconfident enemy….or twelve.

"I _don't_ simply go around chopping people's heads off…"

"Sounds like a gross waste of time…" this from the, until now, silent British Ambassador, clearly still sore from the political nightmare Plastic Man created with a single, ill-conceived joke. Yet another mess I have to clean up, and fast.

I need all the allies I can find on this council…

Still, I won't let this prevent me from… _correcting_ him…

"I think I'm good enough to make it work. On your best days, so are you. _All_ of you."

"And on our worst?"

Don't push me Oleg…

"Do you have any suspects?" Jessica asks, anticipating yet another miniature war breaking out should either of us answer. I'm increasingly starting to be thankful for this woman's existence.

"We have our suspicions, but our resident investigator is swamped at the moment. All we know is that it's likely a group that operates within the region."

We hope, anyways…

The Ambassador for New Zealand, another of the more meek members of the council, loudly clears his throat, directing all our attentions towards him. I can see him almost immediately regret being under the glare of the spotlight as he asks his question.

"I…well I understand if this seems like a rightfully stupid question, but uh…well my brief was awfully incomplete, so…what happened next? This Captain was assassinated, and then…"

I sigh. "Let's just say that it was…"

"A travesty!" interrupts Oleg with a vicious cough, his constant shouting wreaking havoc on his throat. I shoot him a glare that would have made Bruce proud, causing him to sink heavily into his chair, before readying the hologram to start up its replay again. Trying to hide the weariness in my voice, I continue.

"As I was going to say, this is where things got out of hand…"

I make sure to shoot another glare at the Chinese Ambassador, who by now _must_ be aware of what happens next…

…

…

…

" _Superman! Status report!"_

"Little busy here, Batman! I've got rockets flying at me from every direction and _then some_!"

Bullets ricochet off green shields and impervious chests as soldiers and civilians alike dove for cover. Tanks rumbled over demolished stone walls…

…only to find themselves lifted from the ground by the hands of the Justice League's heaviest hitters, while an unending red blur buzzed through both sides of the border, sweeping civilians away and knocking back platoons worth of now hostile soldiers.

From _both_ sides, unfortunately…

" _We need to contain the situation, fast!"_ Batman barked, _"International news agencies are already getting word out. I'm sure every major capital in the world is having an emergency meeting in some underground bunker."_

"What do you suggest we do?" Wonder Woman asked while hefting a tank over her head. Her free hand blocked a deluge of bullets from an attacking battalion while a frightened family hid behind her, caught trying to escape the wide swath of destruction by a trigger happy guardsman.

" _Lantern, use your ring to seal off the towns! We need to protect infrastructure just as much as people if we're going to prevent this from spilling deeper into both countries."_

"Negative on that, Batman." Kyle grunted in response as his large projection of General Patton stomped through a Bialyan tank division. "Too many unfriendly mixed in with the friendly's here."

There was no paused in Batman's thought process as he barked out a new set of orders. _"Wally, I need you move every single person holding a gun outside either city so Lantern can seal them off!"_

Wonder Woman hurled her tiara at the still firing platoon, the razor sharp edges cutting deep gashes in both their hands and guns. With incredible speed, she barreled into the ground next to them, sending them hurtling up into the air from the force of the blast. Seeing that the area was clear, she pressed her fingers to her ears. "Go Wally! Superman and I can handle crowd control!"

"Alright, I'm on it!" the Flash responded. The streak of red and gold soon shifted course back into the city; soon, the number of soldiers firing at one another began to drop significantly. Before taking to the air, Wonder Woman knelt next to the trembling family and offered them a warm smile.

"{You'll be safe soon, I promise. We won't let this last long or result in the destruction of your homes}."

The little girl of the family looked up at her with pleading eyes, and sniffled slightly. "{Promise?}"

Diana tussled her hair lightly and gleamed. "{I promise.}"

Taking to the sky, she whipped out her lasso and roped together a group of Bialyan and Quraci soldiers. With a mighty heave, she launched them into the nearest approaching group with just enough force to knock them all unconscious without resulting in any severe damage. She flew next to Superman just as he finished dispatching a tank with his freeze breath.

"Start burning a barrier around larger pockets of soldiers, they'll be easier to coral that way!"

"Understood!" he replied, taking to the sky. His eyes glowed a fiery red as streaks of burning energy cut through the building dust. Several groups of soldiers found themselves huddled together while the ground around them was scorched from high above.

Wonder Woman meanwhile had roped up the barrel of an approaching Bialyan tank's main canon, and had effortlessly ripped it from the tanks main frame and flung it into the treads of a fleeing Quraci's APC. Placing her fingers to her ear yet again, she radioed into the remaining member of the League.

"J'onn, watch out for Superman's heat vision. He's burning parts of the ground near you."

 _Thank you for the heads up._ He replied telepathically, ghosting in and out of several soldiers and easily knocking them unconscious. _I'll be sure to look both ways before crossing._

Wally was just about to give the all clear to Lantern to start covering the cities, when Batman frantically burst in over the radio.

" _Everyone get to cover! You have something_ big _incoming!"_

"Wait what?" Flash questioned. "What do you mean…?"

A streaking object appeared overhead with a sonic boom, drawing all attention upwards towards the blue sky. The sleek looking craft paused in mid air for half a second, before hurtling to the ground with a thunderous crash, sending large chunks of ground and mushroom clouds of dust flying into the air. Flash covered his face from the flying debris…

…only to curse inwardly as a metallic groan cut through the cacophony of screams and gunfire, revealing a massive metallic robot armed standing directly in between the two towns.

And it was armed to the teeth…

"…something big… _shit,_ it's a fifty foot terminator…"

Plastic Man came bounding up beside him, trying to shake off a soldier's uniform from his wobbling leg, when he stopped and screeched in terror, gasping in the direction of the newly arrived robot. With an audible gulp, he turned towards the Flash, and tugged at his fake collar.

"D-do you think I'm pale enough to be used as a white flag?"

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

 _ **An Unknown Location:**_

 _ **Concurrent with the JLA arriving in the Bialyian Border Town**_

Smoke from his cigars burning embers danced around his shrouded form, the blinking light of his monitors bathing him a low blue hue. He could see the entirety of the league from his impervious vantage point, all the cameras and hidden microphones and radiological sensors he had planted granted him the best view money could buy. It would make little economic sense to plant such expansive monitoring equipment in a region as poor and destitute as the Bialya-Qurac border, not least when they're designed for a _very specific_ target…

But then again, he had known the JLA would be there. After all, he was the one who pushed their chess pieces in that _very specific_ direction in the first place…

He flicked the burnt end of his cigar off into the shadows as he fiddled absent mindedly with the camera arrays controls, waiting impatiently for the phone next to him to finally ring. He was an unflappable man, if he could say so himself; playing the waiting game was something he had mastered almost an entire lifetime ago.

But so much hinged on this _very specific_ operation going off without so much as even a minor hitch; this little skirmish, already palpably tense, was truly the cornerstone to things far greater than anyone other than himself and some very specific allies could comprehend. And missing the appropriate time frame, the very one he had slaved over countless nights to tweak and shift until it was _just_ right, was a _great_ way to derail everything almost before the game had even started.

He had just begun cataloging possible torture techniques should his man in the field fail when the shrill ring of the phone cut through the silence, startling him only slightly. Lifting the receiver, he spoke evenly, conveying nothing less than absolute control and power befitting of a man in his position.

"You've arrived?"

" _Yessir."_ The voice on the other end replied. _"Everything is set up. Just awaiting your command."_

"You can see him, right? Floating almost right in the middle?"

There was no hesitation in his response. _"I see him, sir."_

"Then you've got the canon ready?"

" _And waiting."_

"That very _expensive_ canon, I might add. Filled to the brim with the latest and best technology I could scrounge together?"

" _I'll hit him, that much I promise."_

"Excellent," the figure replied, taking a long heave of his cigar. He couldn't help but smile as he flicked the monitors off and stood from his seat, reaching for his burgundy coat handing just next to him. "Then you've got the all-clear. Start making havoc happen."

" _Which weapon should I use?"_

He thought for a moment, only a moment, before responding. "Conventional. We want them to stick around in the country afterwards, so make it something that won't automatically trace this back to us."

" _Understood sir."_ Came the voice on the phone's reply. The man, his face still covered in shadows, smiled a wide, toothy grin as the distinct sound of a high calibre round being loaded into an equally powerful gun echoed through the speakers.

" _I'm taking the shot…"_

* * *

 **Will the JLA defeat Megatron?**

 **Will Batman ever unravel the increasingly intense mystery?**

 **Will Wonder Woman be able to defend the League's actions in front of the most useless organization in history?**

 **IS PLASTIC MAN WHITE ENOUGH TO BE USED AS A SURRENDER FLAG?**

 **So many questions, all of which will be answered in "JLA: Behold a Pale Horse-The Bialya Connection Part 2"! Or three, or four...or maybe the next arc, who knows.**

 **Now, one thing I was supposed to do last chapter and totally forgot was this; I wanted to recommend some of my favorite Wonder Woman stories for people who otherwise may not have heard of them. Professional ones, I mean, compiling a fanfiction list would take a hell o a long time, and Crazy Phenom is better equipped to deal with that than I.**

 **Anyways, here are my personal recommendations from writers who knew how to a) Not make Diana one dimensional, b) not make her a Straw Feminist, and c) are not Meredith Finch...**

 **-Anything by George Perez. Seriously. The man is a god amongst men. If you liked the JLU Diana, you can think Mr. Perez here. But if I had to specifically pick some, I'd go with "Gods and Mortals" and "Challenge of the God's" in particular. Though "Destiny Calling" is also quite good.**

 **-Phil Jimenez's "Gods of Gotham" (particularly if you ship Wonderbat as hard as I do) and "Paradise Lost/Found". Love his artwork, and love his plots. Some dialogue from JMD is just icing on the cake.**

 **-Anything by Greg Rucka. Again, seriously. But, picking and choosing, "Down to Earth", "Eyes of the Gorgon" and, of course, the legendary "Hiketeia".**

 **-Also pretty much anything by Gail Simone, though in particular "The Circle", probably has the all time most badass scene Wonder Woman's ever been in, and she doesn't even throw a single punch. Also Genocide will fuck you up.**

 **-The 18th Letter**

 **-The Golden Perfect by Joe Kelly, part of his JLA run (which I love)**

 **-League of One**

 **-Wonder Woman: Blackest Night 2 and 3, also by Rucka is great if you like the Wonderbat ship (which obviously I do), and for that reason it's great reading, but I don't consider it necessary to really into her character. Dat kiss though...**

 **And an honorable mention of how NOT to write (or read) Wonder Woman: ASBAR. Christ I hate that book...**

 **Problem is that a lot of these books aren't in print anymore, or so it seems. We're stuck with Azz's run (which was a very one dimensional characterization that devolved into a repeated escort mission while also gutting and bastardizing her supporting cast, especially the Amazons, but otherwise wasn't TERRIBLE per sae...) and the Finch's run which is...**

 **Well it's just atrocious. Not quite SM/WW atrocious, but closer than I'd like.**

 **So...go to your nearest comic book store and demand these stories! Let the world see the GOOD Wonder Woman stories for once! And while we're at it, start donating livers and organs and...wait unrelated, sorry.**

 **Anyways, hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and the list, and I'll see you all at Part 2!**


	8. In Conclusion: I suck

**Hey there folks—**

 **So as has already been, er, "said" in the last story I published, "Behold a Pale Horse" is officially cancelled. Cancelled harder than Young Justice. The reason for that is simple: I don't like the way I've written it, I don't like the way the plot is unfolding, I don't like the way that I've written it, I don't like the way I seem to be trying to structure the chapters around a comic-book style format, I don't like the way I've written it, and this is the most important part, I really don't like the way I've written it. I like to think that my writing style has moved beyond what's on the page now which, while it's nice that everyone's internal thoughts sounds different, doesn't mean that I don't indulge in copious use of adjectives, adverbs, "said bookisms" and the like.**

 **I can't exactly say that I want to go back and start everything over either, since most of my writing now-a-days actually comes with a theoretical price-tag. Ergo, the story ain't going to move past where I stopped. My apologies that I've never managed to actually finish a multi-chapter story on this site. I tried, but failed many times. I mean I won't pretend like my stories aren't just a little piece of easily digestible entertainment, so I'm pretty sure nothing is lost by me not finishing a story, but meh, I still feel bad.**

 **That being said, there are parts of this story that I really liked, parts which I wouldn't mind sharing with people. And since no one has come forward towards my offer of picking up where I left off, I thought maybe what I'd do is I'd write down the one scene I really wanted to write (in fact this scene inspired the whole goddamn story—or at least what the story was before I started going all cosmic on my plot), so I thought "meh, why don't I just write out this scene, tell people the ending in a separate author's note, then slap a "complete" sign on this story and finally put it past me?"**

 **So…yeah, that's the plan. Here we see the scene that started it all, which also reveals the identity of the mystery puppeteer working behind the curtain.**

 **I'll set the scene though: at this point in the story, the situation in Bialya was going to deteriorate faster than a celebrity marriage. Bialya is allied with Russia, who really isn't taking kindly to JLA interference since, thanks in part to Kirkpatrick and his whole-hearted embrace (and as the story progresses, utter bastardization of) Wonder Woman's new initiative, the world at large comes to see it as America encroaching on other nation's sovereignty, which starts to ignite old Cold War tensions between Moscow and Washington. Bialya itself ain't really happy about this either, and a mysterious donor (who may or may not have contributed to a certain President's campaign) loans them an untraceable set of money to hire a group known as "The Extremists" (which are DC expies of Marvel villains) to attack Metropolis, who are then aided by the Bialyan Air Force itself in what ends up being a small-scale invasion of the US Eastern-Seabord. The JLA foils this, but now Russia is on full alert, having activated under protest what's known as "Dead Hand"—a relic from the Cold War that…ok have you ever seen "Dr. Strangelove"? Remember the doomsday device? Yeah so in the 80's, at the height of renewed tensions between the US and the USSR (thanks Reagan…), the Soviets built something known as "Dead Hand", which is a supercomputer built somewhere in Siberia that, when turned on, monitors for signs of a nuclear launch and maintains constant contact with Moscow and several other key military instillations. If it's connection with these instillations is broken, and if the system detects certain atmospheric disturbances consistent with a wide-scale nuclear attack, all command and control functions of every single ICBM facility in the Soviet Union are transferred to a small bunker where the computer is store, which is manned by three members of the Strategic Rocket Forces, who are then instructed to fire off a single, microwave emitting rocket that will travel from one end of the country to the other, remotely launching every single Soviet nuclear missile at pre-programmed NATO targets, thus ending the world.**

 **So yeah, it's real, and it gets turned on, and shit starts getting tense. Wonder Woman deals with the political aspect of things, while Batman continues to investigate the death of the Question, which uncovers connections between, well everything. At the same time, of course, Batman and Wonder Woman have to deal with a little something else—you know, Flash's alcoholism?**

 **Ok no, just kidding. Batman and Wonder Woman both have reasons why they feel as though they shouldn't get into a relationship at this point. I could get into the details, but there are a lot of them, and they ain't exactly unique to the genre either. I mean there's some existential stuff—Absurdism, mortality, the fact that they're both really friggin' busy—you know, the usual. But of course you know that they all work it out and finally, with the help of Green Lantern, decide to give it a go.**

 **The heroes have begun to pool their resources together (if you know what I mean—hur hur hur) when The Extremists show up again, attacking a military instillation just south of Metropolis. Wonder Woman takes the League with her to stop them, while Green Lantern volunteers to help Batman track down a related lead in Metropolis proper, who he believes can help them nab this conspiracy right in the butt.**

 **Boy, he ain't wrong.**

 **So, after that 950 word introduction (sorry), we turn to the story…**

 **Oh by the way—this'll just be written in third person subjective, instead of switching back and forth between present-tense first person and whatever the hell my third person was. It's just less complicated that way. And screw trying to give it a comic book feel—that industry's done man.**

 **It's gone Jim. We couldn't save it…**

* * *

 _ **Metropolis: An abandoned Haleon Chemicals facility ('member that, huh? From Chapter One? The guy Batman was chasing? 'member that? That's a Chekov's Gun son…)**_

 _ **In medias res:**_

Kyle swiped at the air next to his ear, feeling as though a bee of some sort was buzzing next to it. He hit nothing—just created a spiral of dust next to his head. He gritted his teeth and smacked himself in the head, cringed when he felt the buzzing grow worse.

 _Great,_ he thought. _Offered to help the world's most tight-assed detective and I can't even concentrate._

He shook his head and stared on as Batman crouched next to the discarded computer, the splintered desk and shattered monitor glowing green from the light of his ring. He scuffed at the floor with his boot, resisted the urge to whistle and tap his fingers on something solid. Despite himself, despite the fact that tanks crawled through the streets outside, and a battle of titans raged just 60 miles south of the city, Kyle felt bored. He felt ashamed of that fact, but none-the-less he couldn't prevent his mind from wandering to thoughts of smashing Lord Havok over the head with a giant green hammer, or blowing Doctor Diehard away with rocket propelled grenade, or tearing into Gorgon with over-sized hedge trimmers—

He shook his head again, sniffed loudly. His mind had been a soup of violent thoughts for the past two weeks, and it was starting to concern him. Over-the-top violence wasn't his style—hell violence itself always used to leave him with an uneasy sense of failure. Donna once complimented him on that—the fact that out of all the young blood in the hero world, he seemed to be more concerned with protecting civilians than breaking jaws or legs.

He needed a distraction, he figured—something to occupy his mind, a voice to drown out the buzzing. He turned to Batman and moved closer, until he was just over his shoulder, staring at the beeping devices attached to his wrist. He maneuvered the light around so that the glare wasn't as intense.

"Hey so, wanna fill me in? Since I'm here?"

Batman grunted. "I'm surprised you didn't ask earlier. You were a lot more involved last time we did this."

"Yeah but that was a laser gun—" Kyle paused, tried to clear the buzzing in his ears. "I mean I know it's important and all that—we'd be fighting with the Extremists otherwise." He saw Batman crane his neck and give him a look through his cowl. He rushed to continue. "But it's just a bit slower for me is all. I haven't connected all the dots like you have."

Batman turned back to his wrist-mounted device, tapped something into the screen that Kyle couldn't track. Batman rose to his feet, dust cascading off his knees, and turned to Lantern. A second screen, square and black, was enclosed in his other glove.

"Here," he said, throwing the screen at Kyle. "You look while I talk."

Kyle flipped through the floating files on the neon blue screen and followed closely behind Batman, whose head was swivelling back and forth across the room, scanning like an airborne predator for his target. Whatever that was. Kyle clicked on a file, labeled with a string of seemingly meaningless numbers. Out popped a series of jotted down notes.

"Oh shit. These are the Question's, aren't they?"

"Yes," Batman said, crouching again beside a rusted cabinet. "Or all the parts with relevancy to his death."

Kyle's eyes widened behind his mask. "Man, imagine knowing that your own death was coming. The guy was cold, but I didn't think he was _that_ cold."

Batman ran a gloved finger across one of the shelves—felt the lock pop open as an electric current magnetized the metal. He said nothing. Every haunting thought he had about Vic's death, about the fear and helplessness that he had suffered as he trudged through the grime beneath Washington. Diana had helped him move past his guilt, had shown him the power of forgiving himself.

But that left the crushing realization of his own emotional fragility behind, the hard truth that he had been lying to himself all these years, about his death-wish, about needing distance.

He ripped open the lose draw harder than he anticipated, saw it sail towards Lantern's feet, kicking up a cloud of dust as it landed. Lantern stared at him. Batman refused to stare back.

"So—" Kyle felt the need to back up. "Anyways, explain to me something. What's the ray-gun have to do with anything? I know parts of it were made here, but…"

"The entire gun was manufactured by a group of companies all owned by the Brampton family, the same people who owned the building where he was killed…"

"And the same people who you found with their throats slit?"

Batman flipped through the files, kept his eyes on the floor. "All by the same people who tried to silence Luthor and his cabinet."

"KOBRA?"

"Parts of them," Batman rose to his full height, finding nothing of use in the drawer. "A splinter group hired out by someone new. They've been leaderless since the last time Diana dismantled their organization."

Kyle smirked. "Man, woulda loved to see that fight, huh?"

The smirk disappeared as Batman's questioning glare bared down on him. He shrugged his shoulders. "What? Just saying? Would've been cool."

Batman's glare lingered, leaving Kyle with the impression that he was being interrogated. Memories of Bruce and Diana trying to discern what he saw when he… _ran_ into them flooded into his mind, still hazy and uneven.

"Right," Batman said eventually, though his stare stayed rigid and intense for a second longer. Kyle pressed a change of topic as quickly as he could.

"Any idea who's organizing all of this?" Kyle asked, tossing the small screen back across the room.

Batman slid it into one of the pockets that lined his belt. "I have a hunch," he said.

"You always do—"

"—but I'm not sure at this point. All I know," Kyle could see his face grow grim under the black of his mask, "is that it's the same person who secretly bankrolled Kirkpatrick."

Kyle's jaw sung on a hinge, and he forced himself to stare at the ground. His mind was still turbulent and unfocused, perhaps even more so now. He asked the first question that came to his mind.

"Does Di know?"

"She suspected something was up the moment she met him," Batman said, his voice low and his words spoken methodically. "She came to me with an arm-full of documents she managed to lift for political favours, told me that she'd sort through the obvious stuff if I'd be willing to take the time to look through his history. We both ended up going down some dark corridors with far too much red-tape for even a President to have. When our paths ended up crossing—"

"You had dinner dates for a week?"

"Try to stay serious about this Kyle," Batman said, though he couldn't help but smile in as subdued a way as possible.

Kyle just chuckled. "Figured I needed to lighten the mood." Another thought snapped into his mind. "By the way…"

"Don't ask Kyle," Batman said, holding up a gloved hand. Kyle's smile turned playfully evil.

"C'mon, tell me old man. You guys finally admit it?"

"Kyle…"

"Did ya? Did ya?"

Batman turned, now fully unable to conceal a spreading grin. "What we talk about is between us and us—" He paused, and Kyle saw the grin disappear, replaced by a look of worry. He saw Batman step forward, but his vision began to swim and the buzzing in his ears turn into a shrill ringing, as if someone had detonated a compression grenade next to his head. He tried to step forward, found his legs to weigh more than concrete pillars as his boots shuffled and scuffed at the dusty floor. A bolt of pain streaked across the top of his head, and he felt the ground give way underneath his feet.

He tumbled forward into Batman's arms, felt a heavy blackness start to enclose around him, drowning out Batman's frantic cries.

Batman fumbled at his utility belt, tried to keep Kyle's attention on him as he saw his eyes close. He yanked an adrenaline shot out of his belt and saw streaks of red on the grey fabric of his arm. He tilted Kyle's head to the side.

His nose was bleeding, and the veins at his temples were as pronounced as scars. He pried open Kyle's eyelids, stared into his bloodshot eyes as his fingers flipped off the shots plastic cap. Kyle's pupils were massive, with bits of yellow beginning to form around where the iris should be. His nose kept bleeding…

 _Bleeding nose…_

Batman nearly dropped the shot as a flash of realization burrowed into him with the power of an electric shock, to be replaced by a thumping in his heart, and a feeling of dread.

It all made sense to him now. All the clues, the disjointed signs, the behind the scenes shadows moving pieces into place. The politics, the murder, the iron-fisted control…he hadn't seen it then, he _should_ have, but something kept him from probing far enough. And now…

Footsteps echoed behind him. Batman's face became a mask of anger. He laid Kyle down on the floor, stood up from the dust, felt his cloak slide over his shoulders. He turned to face the approaching shadow.

" **Why the games?"** he demanded to the darkness. A shape emerged from them, and the white of its canines glowed in the low light.

"Why?" it responded. "Batman, after all these years, I thought you'd surely know. _Maxwell Lord_ always does things his _own_ way…"

Batman's fists clenched beneath his cape as every warning sign he missed assaulted his mind. His limbs became coiled springs, ready to pounce, but an overwhelming force knocked the wind from his lungs and send him careening head first into the loose brick of the nearest wall. Dazed and feeling fire shoot through his limbs, Batman turned under the weight of the demolished wall, stared at Lord…

And saw Kyle, his face contorted in pure rage, walk up behind him, showering Lord's body in glowing green. Lord sighed and dabbed at a bit of blood dripping from Kyle's nose.

"I didn't want to have to do this Batman—you're of the good guys. But like that conspiracy nut you drag around, you ask too many questions," his face turned dark again as Kyle marched forward, "and this was something that needed to be kept in the shadows."

A ball of green started to descend on Batman, while Lord clucked his tongue, scuffed his shoe on the ground, and walked for the nearest exit. His hand went to his ear.

"Get ready to jam all communications on my mark," he said. "And have my plane standing by…"

…

…

…

 _ **Michael L. Lancaster Air Force Base:**_

 _ **60 miles south of Metropolis**_

Gorgon's tendril cut through the air with the noise of a wet bit of electrical wire. It twanged off Wonder Woman's bracelet, fell limpid to the ground. A second tendril shot past her head—twisting slightly, she dug her nails into its concrete-like flesh, heard a satisfied wail from below, then gave it a yank. A toothy jaw connected with the heel of her boot before forming a crater some fifteen feet below.

She scanned the area around her, saw another explosion rip a hanger in two. Most of the military personal had been evacuated and redeployed in Metropolis—thank Hera—but more than enough bodies still littered the ground from Lord Havok's initial assault. They were fellow warriors, all of them, having come home from a multitude of conflicts only to be cut down on home soil. It left a sickly taste in the back of her throat. No matter how many times Batman would say otherwise, she felt responsible.

The flaming body of Dreamslayer flew by the periphery of her vision, to be replaced by the blue and red form of Superman. He looked concerned, and she knew exactly why he would be.

"They've never been this tenacious," said Wonder Woman.

"I know," Superman replied. "I don't know if we can contain them."

"That won't be a problem." Wonder Woman scanned the horizon again—saw the glow of the fire start to lick at the surrounding forest. "They're here to fight us. No one else."

Superman would never look concerned for his own personal safety, but he gave her a look of worry just the same. His eyes fell towards the speeding form of the Flash and the dancing and shifting Plastic Man. Diana said what he was thinking for them.

"Plastic Man will be fine, and if you, J'onn and I take the more powerful members ourselves, then we shouldn't have to worry about Flash forcing himself into a position he's not ready for. His leg is at least partially healed…"

"I know, but…"

A hunk of rock flew between them, thrown from a distant crater. The metal armour of Lord Havok crashed into Superman's chest, sending both of them tumbling towards the tarmac. Wonder Woman took off after them, her fist outstretched.

"Hold on Superman, I'll—"

She neared the ground, neared the blend of colours that was Superman and the Extremist leader. She felt the fabric of Havok's cloak ghost through her fingertips, when something muscular wrapped itself around her ankle. A hard yank on her leg sent her scooting backwards, feeling torn concrete and rock scrape against her skin. She stared at the tendril and the pudgy pink form of Gorgon it was attached to.

"You ain't goin' nowhere girly," it said, spitting out bits of phlegm and ash. Wonder Woman scowled, then dug her hands into the ground. Gorgon sputtered, unsure of what to do, decided feebly to give her ankle another yank.

He found himself soaring through the air as Wonder Woman summersaulted head over heel, kicking out her legs with Gorgon's tentacle still attached. It released her just as her legs touched ground again, and Gorgon had nearly landed in the surrounding tree tops. She stood and scanned the smoke and ruins, searching for Superman. She saw him through a wall of fire, grappling with Havok as Plastic Man desperately twined his body around the villain. Havok cackled with excitement, paid Plastic Man no heed.

"Just give _in_ Superman," he said, his retracting blade inching closer to the Man of Steel's throat. "One way or another, your fall is coming…"

Plastic Man wrapped his entire jaw around Havok's head, sending spit pouring down his metallic faceplate. "Nmph wff I hffve anffy—"

" _Off cretin!"_ Havok screamed, knocking Plastic Man off with the back of his fist. He grunted and wiped spit from his face—

Only to nearly scream as Wonder Woman's fist appeared from mere inches from his face, leaving only enough time to drop Superman as the crushing power of her blow catapulted him in a spinning arc over the spreading fire. He landed with a heavy thud in the distance as Wonder Woman offered Superman her hand, who rose slowly and rubbed at his neck. Plastic Man bubbled back into form and appeared behind them.

"I helped," Plastic Man said, though he grew quiet when he received unapproving glares from those around him. Superman turned back towards the direction Havok had landed.

"We're spread too thin," he said. "We need to regroup and—"

Something rang out in his ears, a distinctive sound that snatched his attention away from everything else. He focused, blocking out the world around him, as Lois's voice filled his ears.

" _Clark? Clark can you hear me?"_

He pressed into his ear. "I hear you Lois." He saw the look of concern and surprise on his companion's faces. "What's wrong?"

" _I don't know if you're with Diana, but one of you has to get back to Metropolis. Quick."_

"What's going on?"

Silence, or hesitation, Clark wasn't sure. He pressed again. "Lois? What is it?"

" _I don't know what's happening, but Batman's in trouble. He's being chased through the city and all the lines seem to be down. I don't think_ —"

"What is it Superman?" Diana asked. Her face betrayed her concern.

Superman sighed, hesitated himself. He eyed the destruction around him, then eyed his friend, who he was sure had caught some of his conversation with her own enhanced hearing. His brow snapped down, and his face become deathly serious.

"You need to get to Metropolis Diana," he said, stepping closer. "Lois says Batman's in danger, and Kyle might be too. He needs your help, _they_ need your help." She went to speak, to state that she couldn't just abandon the fight, but Superman raised his hand, cut her off. He knew what kind of conflict would be raging within her—the desire to protect the person she loved, how that could cloud judgment and reaction time. They needed her…but so did Batman. They would manage. Bruce might not. And Diana knew that.

"We can handle them. If they're not trying to attack anyone but us, we can keep them here."

"But Superman—"

"Go Wondy," Plastic Man said, his voice and face serious. "We won't let you down."

Wonder Woman paused, her hands at her sides. She gave Superman a sympathetic look, gave the same to Plastic Man, then took to the sky faster than even Superman's eyes could track. Flash and J'onn, donned in his flame-retardant suit, appeared next to Plastic Man, their eyes tracking the sky.

"What's going on?" asked Flash.

Superman sighed, turned back to the figure of Havok rising out of the flames. "The worst case scenario," he said.

…

…

…

Batman spun past a volley of green bullets, laid down a smoke screen and rolled through it. The glowing form of Green Lantern cut through the smoke with an animalist scream, his face hot with rage. Another construct, this a massive spike, crashed into the pavement beside Batman. He leapt free of the attack, but felt his cape tear as its fringes strayed too close.

The Metropolis streets were deserted, which was meant civilian casualties would be non-existent despite a superpowered being rampaging through the streets with murder in his eyes.

It also meant though that Batman was on his own, and try as his might, he couldn't think of a way to disable Kyle without killing him.

Kyle didn't have that problem, as evident by a make-shift F-16 crashing into the building nearest Batman. Its walls listed and tumbled showering the street in dust and glass. A line snaked out of Batman's hand, captured a near-by ledge. The spring mechanism launched him clear of the debris and another blast of green from Lantern's ring. Spreading his cape, he soared over the building, scanned the surrounding area for somewhere to hide.

Communications were down—nothing but the mocking sound of static. Even if he could find a place to hide, the League wouldn't be able to intervene until word reached the base—or wherever they were fighting now. Even if Batman was Kyle's target, he didn't like the odds that posed for the civilians.

A glowing green arrow struck Batman in the thigh, and his cape collapsed around him. He cried out, tumbled to the streets, saw red fill his vision. Unconsciously, a second line shot out from behind his now tattered cloak, and with a harsh lurch he slammed shoulder first into the nearest roof. He rolled, tested his leg, then leapt over the edge. The roof exploded as another construct demolished it, and the blast was powerful enough to knock Batman to the street faster. He hit the opposite wall first, then bounced and spun the remaining ten feet to the street. His vision swam and his breath was ragged, but he was alive.

He saw the shadow of Kyle move over him. Above him came a cry of primordial rage, one that Batman knew he had heard before.

" _KILL YOU BATMAN! I KILL YOU!"_

Batman sprinted around the nearest corner as the ground exploded into singed blocks of concrete. Metal and cement groaned as the building he had struck collapsed. The roofs were no longer an option, and there were no alleyways dark enough to allow him to slip away. He had no other choice—he had to make a run for it.

Green bullets and lasers peppered the street around him as he ran, discarding his cape, flinging gas pellets and electric batargangs behind him, anything to slow Kyle down. Nothing worked. He plowed through the projectiles like they were gnats.

The rumbling sound of tank treads caught Batman's attention, and appearing from behind what looked like a large and central square rolled an M1A2 Abrams, decked in the camouflage of the Delaware National Guard.

 _No_ , Batman thought. _No stay back! He's after me, he's after—_

The Abrams exploded in a shower of metal, setting fire to the billowing flags that adorned the building beside it. He could hear screams—not from the tank but from other soldiers that had flooded around it. They shouted and barked at one another, unsure of what to do. One of the soldiers spotted Batman, with Lantern in pursuit.

He stepped away from the smoldering wreckage, waved the heroes down.

This time, Batman shouted.

" _ **OUT OF HERE! GET OUT—"**_

A thin green laser cut the soldier in half. Batman swore, rolled out of the laser's path, stared up from his now crouched position as Kyle tore into the remaining soldiers, who were now jostling together in a disorganized pack from surprise and terror.

"Kyle, _NO!"_ He screamed, feeling all emotional control slip from his grasp. He flung a handful of explosive batarangs at Lantern, saw them explode against his shield. Lantern growled, like a rabid dog let off a leash, and blasted the ground next to Batman, then again and again as the Dark Knight danced between newly formed craters. He drifted in closer, with all the presence of a psychotic menace, as a stray blast struck the ground underneath Batman's feet, sent him hard into the nearest stone wall along with bits of road and sidewalk. Kyle's growling became louder, his ring's glow became brighter…

Then Batman saw her, out of the corner of his vision. Wonder Woman—Diana, somehow she was speeding towards them like a comet. Somehow—he didn't know how and he didn't care. If there was anyone he wanted to see right now…

He turned to Kyle with hope in his eyes, spoke above the roar of the crackling fire.

"Kyle," he said. "Look. Look who's almost here. It's going to be over soon, we're going to fix you. We just need you to—"

…

…

…

The trees and hills were green and brown blurs as she rocketed through the sky. She called upon every god she could think to name, asking them—even _begging_ them, to grant her the strength to get to Metropolis in time. She didn't know what was happening, just like she didn't know how long her friends could hold out against the Extremists if they were Hades-bent on nothing but destroying the League.

The pressure mounted behind her forehead, and feeling as much power as possible course through her, she sped on, past the highway, past the urban sprawl, saw the spires of downtown Metropolis grow from mere twigs in the distance to the full glass forest it was.

There was fire, and there were explosions. She could hear screams from here. The city itself looked mostly intact, save for a patch in the Financial District. She narrowed her vision and, with the last burst she felt she could manage, shot towards the rising smoke.

 _There_! She could see him! He was limping, but alive. And Kyle was right behind him…

She saw him cut apart the National Guard, saw Batman get launched backwards against a wall. Shock overtook her for the briefest of seconds, before her warrior training supressed it, replaced it with a second adrenaline burst.

Bruce saw her now. They made eye-contact. She could sense the growing hope emanating from him. Just a few more feet, just a few more seconds…

…

…

…

Batman stepped off from the wall, his hands held out in an offering of peace. Kyle floated above, unmoving, his expression unchanged. He lowered his voice, lightened his tone, pulled on the voice he used when he and Diana had their talk, when Kyle had walked in and saw what amounted to a moment of passion.

"Please Kyle," he said. "It's Diana and I. You can trust us. We can help you, we promise…"

He saw a flicker of recognition on Kyle's face, could hear Diana approach, closer and closer. Kyle's face dropped, his boots landed softly against the pavement, his glow subsided. Batman dropped his arms, shuffled closer.

Without warning, his head snapped forward, and he felt the cold of the wall against back. He heard screaming—Diana's, but about what he didn't know.

Then he felt pain, sharp at first, in and around his upper abdomen. Then it spread, because intense, a firestorm of exploding nerves. He looked down, his neck shaking.

A green spear was sticking out from just below his chest, pinning him to the wall. Blood was pouring out of the wound, was pooling at his feet. He tried to speak, but he felt as though he was drowning in copper.

The green around Lantern's costume subsided, and his face became less angry, less red. He stumbled, rocked on his feet, held his head in his hands. Batman saw Kyle look up, towards where he had pinned him against the wall.

He stumbled again, his face turning white. He dropped to his knees.

He screamed. It sounded like he was ripping his own throat out, like his lungs were as clogged with blood as Batman's. The green spear disappeared, and Batman felt himself slip into Wonder Woman's arms. They were quivering.

He tried to speak, but nothing worked. His mouth was dry, his chest was on fire, moving his arms was like struggling against drying plaster. Diana shook and gripped his hand as hard as she could without breaking it. Tears streaked her cheeks, dotted Batman's bloodstained uniform.

She tried to say something too, but her voice caught in her throat, came out as a sob.

He felt the pain start to slip away, felt reality start to slip away. He knew what was coming, knew that he had to say what he needed to say, what he longed to say for so long. Drawing on as much strength as he could, he squeezed her hand back.

" _Diana…love…"_

His grip faded, the light became dark. His eyes began to close as Diana nestled her head next to his, her face agonized. He wanted to do more, wanted to try and take her pain away, but he couldn't. He was too tired.

The world became dark.

Then, silence.

…

…

…

Superman knocked aside Barracuda, and next to him he saw J'onn sway and clutch at his helmet. He shot next to him.

"J'onn! Are you alright?"

The Martian didn't answer. His eyes were still closed. Superman pressed harder.

"J'onn?"

J'onn looked up, and Superman saw the pain in his eyes.

He didn't need to say anything. His look, that feeling in the air. That was all that needed to be said.

Batman was gone.

* * *

 **So…yeah. There we go. The entire story was a built up from this dickish idea I had were I thought "yeah Batman should die in Diana's arms. That'd be fun!"**

 **Anyways, hope you got some enjoyment out of that. I probably wrote it all shit like since I wanted it off my chest more than anything else, and you might all still be really mad at me for not finishing the story, but…yeah I've got nothing. I'm sorry folks.**

 **For those of you that want the rest of the plot, it's as follows:**

 **Kyle's now emotionally devastated, Wonder Woman's trying to keep her own emotions in check while still being a leader, and the League is now being blamed for Batman's death, leaving "Kirkpatrick" no choice but to order their arrest, while the geopolitical situation is one misshape away from outright war. This is, naturally, Lord's plan, as he knows that the League will attempt to break out in order to stop him, which will push the other countries to blame Kirkpatrick for being too much of a sympathizer and declare war on the US and her allies. This naturally happens, however Diana is able to break Lord's hold on the President, and calling together some countries that owe her a favour, this loyal coalition force manages to hold off the invaders while the League goes after Lord...**

 **Who is waiting for them. His plan is simple: as JFK said in the first chapter, the League was getting too bogged down in the down-to-earth mess of the real world, and needed to be free to act as gods and what-not. In order to make sure the usually incompetent human authorities had the ability to protect everyone, Lord was going to manufacture a geopolitical crisis that would be eventually lead to the deployment of nuclear weapons, far too many for earth's heroes to all stop. No powered heroes would die, but billions would, forcing humanity to start over, but in a way that would allow them to manage their own faults while the JLA and such watched out for them from above, protecting them against things like Darkseid and Brainiac without the need to "grovel amongst humans", so to speak. He takes control of Superman, while simultaneously a planted agent in the Russian government activates Dead Hand, meaning game over for everyone. Wonder Woman holds Superman off while the rest of the League deals with the nukes, and manages to defeat him and attack Lord, which to her surprise is a cyborg of some-kind, one with a specially crafted ability to negate her healing factor and possibly kill her. Before he can, however, a redeemed Kirkpatrick sacrifices himself and destroys Lord, while Superman and Wonder Woman deal with the last remaining volley of nukes aimed at Washington.**

 **The day is saved, but the League is in shambles, the US government is gutted, tensions are still high across the world, and Batman is dead, which of course affects Wonder Woman most of all. So the story doesn't end on a positive note.**

 **There'd have been two epilogues: one where its revealed that Lord's consciousness is conjoined with Metron's computer (as it was in the old JLI series), and he's having another body built, waiting to bide his time. In the prologue, Question finds the body of Jim Corrigan, also known as the Spectre, which was a Chekov's gun for the last epilogue, in where Batman is reborn as the new Spectre.**

 **Phew, god it's good to get that off my chest. Can finally say this is done and almost technically be right! Woohoo!**

 **So let me know what you think and/or yell at me in the comments section. Oh and by-the-way, I won't be doing the same for Reign of Terror, as someone came forward to finish that story. Details to follow, eventually.**

 **Good Moleman to you all.**


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